


Beware For I Am Fearless

by Lunarium



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Buried Alive, Dark, Domestic Violence, Endgame Sheith, Eventual Happy Ending, Horror, Human Experimentation, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Mad Scientists, Miscarriage, Misgendering, Modern Day Frankenstein AU, Past Abuse, Past Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Past Keith/Other, Trans Keith (Voltron), Trans Male Character, Transphobia, revenge porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 02:27:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21245978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarium/pseuds/Lunarium
Summary: A new lab assistant to Drs. Holt and Honerva, Keith is too busy lost in the horrors of his own recent past, but an unlikely friendship with the monster kept under lock and key in the lab begins to patch up smoldering wounds. But as that bond grows deeper and Keith learns just what he’s gotten himself into, he’ll do whatever it takes to rescue Shiro, even if it means freeing a monster.





	1. Split Second Decision

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Stories in the Dark bang as well as Spook Me 2019. Please heed the warnings and tags. 
> 
> The idea for this story began two summers ago, especially the idea of Keith having had a horrible and violent ex, although certain details have changed over time. So glad the story's now complete! 
> 
> Thank you so much to Spatzi_Schatz for looking it over! Title comes from _Frankenstein_ by Mary Shelley.

“This isn’t one of your dumb games, is it?” 

Lance threw his hands up in defeat. “Gee, thanks, man! Just trying to help ya’ out here, be a chap, but you’re obviously more interested in just brooding by yourself like some kid who never grew out of his goth stage!” 

Keith growled under his breath. What did he do to deserve Lance Álvarez’s high-pitched whining this early in the morning? Squeezing his eyes shut, he pointedly turned away, dragging his tome of an Organic Chemistry textbook with him and settling with his back facing the lab. 

“Hey, don’t turn your back on me! I’m trying to help you! You said your money supply’s dwindling away fast, and what have we here—read the flyer again, Hunk!”

“Er, um.” 

Keith frowned behind his textbook. Clearly Hunk Te’o didn’t want to be part of this bullshit either. 

Hunk and Lance, from what Keith had gathered, were both in the Marine Biology track, but all biology majors required some courses in chemistry. Keith, a chemistry major, didn’t have to take any biology courses. This meant they only got to share chemistry classes. Thankfully not much more than that. The chem labs were bad enough with Lance around. 

Hunk wasn’t anywhere as bad as Lance; in fact, in the few times when Keith spent time with Hunk without Lance, he enjoyed a conversation with him. Not that he and Hunk were friends or anything. But even Keith appreciated an amicable acquittance. And the young man had an aura that just exuded hospitality, making it easy for Keith to open up…though not about everything. The move here had cost him a lot; that’s all he had said to Hunk.

Clearing his throat, Lance recited in place of Hunk. “Lab assistant needed, afternoons to evenings on weekdays and weekends. Strong preference on chemistry background. Eleven dollars an hour, or negotiable.” 

“Sounds awfully like you, Keith,” Hunk said. 

“_See?_” Lance said. “They’re not looking for any ol’ science majors like me or Hunk. They want _you_! A real chemist! How many other eligible people do you see here? Didn’t you T.A. at your old school? You never go anywhere without that book—you’ll be a perfect fit!” 

Keith gripped at the edge of the desk but otherwise said nothing. Of course Lance had overheard him complaining to Hunk about his financial troubles. He knew Hunk wouldn’t betray their trust; the issue was that Lance appeared to possess some sort of superhuman hearing. Why was Lance even trying to help him, anyway? To make him feel bad? 

“I have to agree with Lance on this,” Hunk admitted. “He’s only trying to help, and eleven dollars an hour is nothing to sneeze at. You don’t have to be like this.” 

Lance nodded smugly. “Either take this job or good luck finding lunch.”

“Hey, if you’re shy, I could call and ask your potential future employer any question you want to ask!” A third voice joined in, and Keith bit back the groan as the student leaned over his desk, inviting herself into his personal space. He didn’t have to rack his memory for a name. Jenny Shaybon was a pretty active participant in class. And one Lance was always calling out to.

“I’m not shy,” Keith muttered. 

“Then why aren’t you calling up the lab?” Lance demanded. “You don’t want to end up on the streets and unable to go to school, then—” 

Keith growled and hopped to his feet. “What is it with you?! Get out of my business!” 

“Sheesh! We’re only trying to help!” Jenny said. “We’re not trying to harass you or anything!” 

Hunk raised his hands. “Guys, just take it easy. The job opportunity sounds great and all, but I’m sure Keith has his reasons.”

Keith gathered his stuff and stormed out of the lab, nearly colliding with another student. They were short in stature and wore large, round, thin-framed glasses. Looking at Keith, they stared at him silently. He waited for them to say something—were they also in on Lance’s conspiracy?—before realizing the student was neither a biology nor chemistry major.

“Er, are you lost?” Keith asked. 

“Oh!” the student said, nervously adjusting their glasses. “Sorry. Something just caught my attention. I’ll be on my way now!” 

_Strange_, Keith thought and made off.

⁂

“Monthly rent, weekly groceries, utilities, heating, medical expenses if any—oh, and tuition if you don’t have any scholarships.”

“Okay, Hunk…”

“I mean…I’m just saying, that’s a lot to keep in order. And you didn’t even opt for a dorm, which…it’s your right and choice and all, but…I’m just saying.” 

“Did Lance send you over to convince me?” 

Just the thought of that walking pool-noodle was enough to make Keith nearly choke on his slice of pizza. He angrily plunged it in the plastic cup of ranch sauce as Hunk calmly scribbled more notes. 

“He sorta did, but I’ve been working out the numbers for you ever since you last mentioned them to me,” he said. Keith scoffed. Pizza done, still pissed. “I mean, could you ask your family if—”

“No.”

“I get it, man. Listen, I’m talking to you as a friend.”

_A friend_, Keith thought through a mouthful of garlic parmesan fries dripping with ketchup. Why did his throat suddenly close up? 

Not noticing the momentary shadow that passed Keith’s face, Hunk pushed the notebook towards Keith. Keith felt the blood drain from his face as he studied the chart. With his expenses—and there were some Hunk wasn’t even privy to—the last of his savings was very likely to run dry by the end of the month. He wasn’t going to have _anything_ left. Soon. Real soon. 

He couldn’t do this. Not when—

Just coming to this college was nothing short of a miracle…and especially after what had happened at the old school, losing all of this, everything he had built up, what he put his parents through…he couldn’t…he especially couldn’t let _him_ win. 

“Sorry, Keith,” Hunk said as he had just spotted the time. He jumped to his feet. “I won’t be seeing you the rest of the week, but if you let me know now, Lance and I can make arrangements and help you get to the lab—I mean, I know you don’t have a car…”

He had only seconds to make a decision. It was Tuesday, and the next time he would be seeing Lance and Hunk again would be next week, unless if their paths crossed in the halls. Who knew what would be the status of the job position then.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes. I’ll call and set an appointment. Not today. I’m in lab until late evening.”

⁂

Sighing, Keith glanced out the window. Their last class for Tuesdays always adjourned at night, and the sky outside was pitch black. The hush of rain spluttering against the glass windows was almost calming—that is, if Keith had remembered to bring his umbrella. And his apartment was a decent walking distance, meaning that without a car he would be soaked to the bone by the time he arrived.

He should have taken Hunk’s number down, but Hunk had been in a hurry and Keith didn’t think to ask for it. Hunting him and Lance down in the biology department would be easy enough on the agreed day for the interview, but tonight Keith was on his own. Hunk was already back home…or in the dorms, Keith wasn’t sure which it was. In either case, Keith himself was stuck with having to walk all the way back in the pouring rain, in pure darkness. 

The soothing sound of rain and the appearance of raindrops against the glass turned cold and threatening. 

Keith drew in a deep breath as he pulled his jacket around himself. 

“It’s just rain. You’re being stupid. Don’t let it get to you.”

⁂

Land stretched for miles, broken only by the thicket of trees up ahead. They curved around the mouth at the end of a long winding road, a cut and seldom-trodden road glimmering sandy-brown in the moonlight.

A single blackened tree stood out from the others, visible in the glade, naked and black-barked, its branches twisting as if mocking the heavens. The ground next to it stood like a little mound, a recent grave dug up. 

A distant scream filled the silent night as a gravel from the top of the mound rolled down. 

Keith shot up from his bed, panting heavily. His chest hurt, painfully, so painfully—he couldn’t breathe. He pressed his hand to his chest and assured that his heart was still beating—no, it was _pounding_, rapidly. 

_You’re out of there. You’re not…you’re not six feet under—stop! You’re not in there!_

Keith drew his legs in and growled into his knees. He bit into his arm, wept, cussed his name…

He was still soaked to the bone after his bath; after the walk in the rain and trying to calm himself, he had only enough energy to wash himself in the shower and plop down to sleep. If his studies suffered from this…

_Just one time_, he had told himself. _It was just one time. I won’t make the same mistake. Just always bring your umbrella, okay? It won’t happen again._

He shook the nightmare out of his mind. His unit was shrouded in shadows, but the sound of rain still rattled against his window, reminding him of the events before he plunged into that dark, cold, wet world. Funny how the argument with his well-meaning but intruding classmates had now seemed like a better part of the day. Though it was just hours ago, they felt like years, decades…another reality. 

What he would give to go back to that normalcy.

⁂

“Isn’t this exciting?” Lance squealed. “A real laboratory!”

Keith shrank away from Lance’s shrieking—_damn it, you’re driving too fast, stop it, R!_—and he really wasn’t in the mood for this. Thankfully Hunk was there, having met up with Keith first back on campus. The two had fussed with Keith’s appearance for a bit; Lance especially acted as though Keith’s minimal wardrobe was a personal attack on him. 

He didn’t care about dressing to impress. The way he looked today was how his employers were going to see him every day, sans a white coat. His resume was all typed up, and he was more than well qualified. He got the hard part done. 

And still Lance was going on and on like some mother hen excited about her chicks. 

And Keith…couldn’t help thinking about the nightmare. He sat, barely speaking a word the whole time. He was aware that Lance kept shooting weird looks at Keith, probably noticing how he was pressed against the car door. 

“Nervous?” Hunk asked. “We can role-play an interview. It’ll be good practice for me too.” 

Keith shook his head quickly, deflating the excited look on Lance’s face. 

“Are any of you employed?” Keith asked in hopes of changing the subject away from himself. 

“Oh yeah!” Lance said. “But like, school-stuff, you know! Libraries or working in the labs there. Hey, I know you don’t seem comfortable around me and my friends, and I hope you don’t mind me saying this: wouldn’t it be cheaper if you lived in a dorm? Since your family don’t seem to have a lot of money—nothing wrong with that! My family doesn’t either—financial aid could have helped cover expenses with housing and meal plans. Are you even aware there’s a—”

“Yes, I know what financial aid is!” Keith snapped then took another deep breath. He willed the tension to leave his shoulders as they rounded a corner. “I have my reasons for wanting to be alone.” 

“Oh yeah? Guess you are the lone wolf type.” 

Keith opened his mouth for another retort as their faces crossed his memories—James, Ryan, Nadia, Ina, Miriya, Max, Rick…

Roy. 

He gripped the car door handle. 

“Hey, are you all right?” Lance asked, watching him intently. They had stopped at the light, giving Lance a chance to take a good look at him. 

“I’m fine,” Keith managed. Lance made to argue, but the traffic light mercifully changed in that moment, forcing him to focus on driving. 

“Lab’s not too far,” Lance mumbled. He slammed on the accelerator at the same time Keith felt his heart plummet to the ground—_stop going so fast!_

From the side-view mirror, he could see Hunk studying him with concern, so he bit back any comment. His fingers nervously wrung the slip of paper Hunk had given him earlier with their phone numbers in case he needed to contact them later for a lift back. He didn’t need anyone to worry about him. Instead, he tried to enjoy the view: the fast rush of the city. 

No forests. No darkness. This wasn’t like last time. The air wasn’t chilly. The—oh, God—ground wasn’t freezing cold. It was bright, a mid-afternoon. Celestial City paved way into the grander Chiberia. Though Celestial City was one of the dozen large suburbs that made up the Chiberia metro area; both were situated by the vast Windy Lake, a rather unusual name but not a misnomer in the least bit. Large, impressive waves crashed by the shore, and watching them would have been hypnotizing had they not been speeding by. 

“Looks like we’re here,” Lance announced. 

They had pulled away from the lake and drove through the heart of downtown. Now among institutions and museums, a lone building stood. The black-tinted windows and grey stone siding didn’t bother Keith so much as the fact that no cars were parked in the vicinity. For a place situated in the main city, the fact that no cars were parked on the side appeared peculiar. 

Lance pulled over and stopped right by the ramp. 

“Thank you for choosing Álvarez Airlines,” Lance said. “We hope you fly again!” 

Keith’s hand trembled as he opened the car door and slowly stepped out. All sound seemed to have been vacuumed out. Getting another wave of chills, he shut the car door and made his way up the ramp, hyper-aware of every rustle of leaves on the pavement, the faraway caw of a raven, the black sheen of the door window staring back at him—

—Dark was the night, the gnarled tree twisted up, its fingers stretched, grappling for the sky—

⁂

Lance and Hunk watched as Keith made his way up the ramp to the front entrance.

“This is so exciting, Hunk!” Lance said. “I feel like a mother sea turtle seeing off her hatchlings to sea!” 

Hunk guffawed. “Jeez, Lance! You barely know the guy!” 

“I know! But I wanted to help him! He’s always so gloomy!” Lance said. “And—and you wanted to help him too!” 

Hunk smiled. “Yeah. Poor thing was so distressed. It was the most words I ever heard come out of him before.” 

They turned back to Keith who was standing in front of the entrance. Leaning forward, they waited excitedly, wanting to see Keith off and also curious how his new employer will look. Before meeting up with Keith they had taken bets on said employer’s name, everything from Dr. Jillian Holtzmann to Emmett Lathrop "Doc" Brown. 

“What’s he waiting for?” Lance said. “Did he ring the bell? This is the right address, isn’t it?” 

“Uh, it is,” Hunk said, craning his neck to catch the address on the building again. 

Frowning, Lance glared at Keith who stood stock still as if…hesitant? 

“No…no, no, no! Don’t you dare!” 

A step back. Another. Soon Keith was making his way back towards the car. 

“Are you kidding me?!” Lance groaned with a roar. 

“Maybe they weren’t in?” Hunk said. 

“Impossible! Did you even see Keith _ring_ the stupid bell?!” 

“Lance, why are you so—”

“Because I care?” Lance screamed. “If I can’t help one human being, how am I suspected to help marine life?! Think of the turtles, Hunk!” 

The car door opened. 

“I changed my mind,” Keith said flatly as he got in. 

Lance snorted through his nose like an angry bull. “What’d you waste my time driving you then?” 

Keith didn’t respond for the longest time. Hunk just stared at him, lost between feeling bad and feeling concerned but also weirded out. _You’re gonna be without money in weeks, man._

“Can you just take me home?” Keith asked in a weirdly tight voice, hugging himself. 

_Hey, man, are you okay?_ Hunk wanted to ask but the words didn’t come out. 

Without any comment, Lance revved the engine and drove off at top speed.

⁂

He was fucked.

Keith spent the rest of the afternoon crying in his apartment. Sleeping didn’t do him any good, not when the moment his head hit the pillow, the tree returned in his vision—thanks, Lance, for that speculator drive home and all the memories it dragged up. Not just the fast driving that had Keith gripping the door handle for dear life, but also the screaming, the ranting—he had half a mind to open the door and throw himself out, take care of the deed before it happened again, before he hurt him again—

Hunk was only a little better. He had remained silent, and as Keith was exiting out, he had reminded Keith that he had their numbers, and he was free to text Hunk if he needed anything. _He_ didn’t completely hate him. 

Pulling on his hair, Keith racked his brain, trying to remember his breathing exercises. His chest hurt so damn much he was about to collapse—

—Heavy weight pressing against him, no _no no no no no no_—

—Gripping a pillow and pressing it against his face, he screamed into it. Over and over until he couldn’t breathe. Then taking deep breaths, he steadied himself again.

His phone rang. 

“Hello?” he answered shakily. 

“Mr. Koh? You didn’t show up to the interview today.” 

Keith bit his lip. The voice on the other line sounded old and kind. A man’s voice…but nothing like _his_ voice. “Yeah, sorry. Something came up last minute.”

“Understand. It would be a shame to lose you. Your resume is the best one we’ve received. Would you be able to come in tomorrow, same time? We do have another candidate, but I would like to first meet you before we come to a decision.”

It was his final chance. His phone’s battery was down to one percent, ready to pass out at any moment. He had to decide fast. Looking at his apartment, at the little he owned in life and understanding how much he was about to lose, throw away all his parents did for him, by not holding on to this little grain of rice.

“Yes, please. Let me try again.”

“Thank you, Mr. Koh. I look forward to interviewing you.” 

The call ended, and right in the nick of time. His phone died. 

Heart pounding, Keith searched for his phone charger and plugged in his phone. Once it booted back up, he had a very important phone call to make.


	2. Mile A Minute

“What?! Do you think I’m _crazy_?” 

Lieutenant Allura’s eyebrows went up. “Well, _no_. We’re just—” 

“I wouldn’t lie about this, officers—”

“I understand,” she said, sighing at having been cut off. 

Keith bit his lip, feeling a little bad for his behavior. Any other investigator or police officer would have lost his cool with him already, but not Detective Lieutenants Allura, Coran, and Romelle. Romelle must have been a junior rank, for she was in charge of jotting down additional notes while their conversation was recorded. 

Lieutenant Coran tugged on his bright orange mustache. “It’s entirely possible—and by no means am I calling you a liar—that the trauma you had experienced have resulted in these…_well_…false memories.” 

Keith shook his head. “No…no…I know what happened. Didn’t you investigate the area?” 

“We did,” Lieutenant Allura said. “It’s inconclusive, Keith. The accused has an alibi.” 

Keith felt the bile rise to his mouth. How the hell did Roy—

“What of the medical records? It shows—it clearly shows!” 

The three shared a look that Keith did not like one bit. 

“Keith, even with your written consent for us to retrieve your files, we found nothing. You were never even seen in that facility.” 

“Impossible!” 

He felt as though the ground beneath him had given away. 

“That’s impossible! That was why he—shit, that bastard!”

Romelle’s brow furrowed with her frown as she scribbled quickly on her pad. 

“Keith,” Lieutenant Allura said calmly. “We understand how distressing this is for you.” 

“I’m not lying about this, I swear! You saw the state I was in!—_you all were there!_—the hospital! What about the records there?” 

“Nothing there either,” Romelle said before flinching at having spoken out of turn. 

Keith gaped at her. 

“We do not doubt you were victimized in some fashion,” Lieutenant Coran said. “But without evidence at this time, we cannot press charges on Roy Fokker. We have no proof, beyond your allegations, that he was with you on the night you were buried alive.

“The fact that you two have had domestic disputes before do not shine favorably in your direction.” 

Lieutenant Allura nodded. “Our field only allows us to function based on hard facts and evidence, and based on the evidence we have, Mr. Fokker was elsewhere that night. A lawyer can easily turn this against you to claim that someone else beside the defendant had buried you alive, and either the act was in compliance with you in order to get back at Mr. Fokker or the psychological trauma from the incident had caused you to hallucinate him as the culprit.” 

“How would I ever hallucinate being—” 

“We know, Keith. We do believe you. We did see you in the hospital, but, again, your trauma could have been the result of anything. Think from the lawyer’s perspective. It’s just…not checking in with the hard evidence we have procured.” 

“There’s also the fact that…well,” Romelle didn’t continue, but Keith knew exactly what she was trying to hint at. Keith’s shoulders slumped; with this “hard fact,” he would be easily dismissed as being touched in the head. 

Lieutenant Coran nodded gravely. “All to say, none of this is looking well for you.” 

“But…you’ll still be searching, won’t you?” Keith asked. “You can’t close this case! I’m telling you, Roy buried me alive after he—!” 

A pager went off, and looking around sheepishly, Lieutenant Coran signaled for them to wrap it up. 

“I’m sorry, Keith,” Lieutenant Allura said. “We will look into any new evidence that comes our way.”

Keith watched them go, feeling sick to his stomach. He didn’t know how he could ever prove it, ever prove that he was sane, that all the things that happened to him was all the result of Roy. But they probably all thought he was crazy now. 

Roy had something to do with it all. Somehow. 

Keith’s stomach turned; he couldn’t walk back to class in this state, not with that nagging feeling in the back of his head. 

Roy had gotten away with murder.

⁂

Keith checked over his shoulder. No car with two pairs of eyes watched him this time. Perhaps it would be better this way. This time, Keith took the public transport, hoping the fee he had just spent would be worth it. If he got the job, and from what the man had said, it did seem Keith had a strong chance, then he hopefully wouldn’t have to worry about the occasional bus or train ride.

For want for something to do, he wrung his phone and keys in his hands. He had pockets, but he needed something to fidget with for comfort. 

After waiting for what felt like forever, the front door with the black-tinted windows slid back to reveal a tall middle-aged man wearing thick-rimmed glasses and a long white coat. Something about him pinged Keith as vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place where he had seen the man before. 

“Keith Koh?” 

Keith straightened his back. “Yes. Hello.” 

The man gave a relieved smile. He moved aside so Keith could step in, and extended his hand for Keith. 

“I’m Samuel Holt,” he said. “So glad you could come in today.” 

Keith looked about himself. The lab was clean and crisp, the lighting bright for a building shrouded in pure black from the outside. A secretary typed away at the front desk, but other than her, there didn’t seem to be much in the way of staff. 

“Keith, this is Merla. She’ll work on your ID card in a moment.” 

The secretary paused from her typing to give Keith the briefest of smiles before returning to her task. 

_ID card?_ Keith thought. That made it sound like he already had the job…

“But before you fill out any paperwork…” Dr. Holt led him through a door and down a short hallway into a smaller windowless room. The entire place was inordinately bright and cold to the point that Keith shivered; the hairs on back of his neck prickled as remnants of an old horror crawled back to him. He pushed the memories away, frowning, and tried not to think of the troubling conversation that he had with the detective investigators earlier today. He knew what he saw. He knew what he had experienced. This cold room was just like the one in that medical office…he wasn’t imagining it, it really had happened, he really had been there—

“So,” Dr. Holt’s voice shot through Keith’s reverie, jolting him back to reality. A stack of manila folders dropped on the metal table before them, the sound reverberating in the otherwise quiet room. It shouldn’t have shot Keith’s heart to his throat; he tried to swallow it back down as fragments of the earlier panic still stubbornly clung on. 

“So,” Dr. Holt repeated as he pored through Keith’s resume, “What interests you in our position?” 

Keith’s tongue went instantly dry. He knew _nothing_ of this laboratory, what they did, their mission statement…shit, he should have researched that before coming in. 

He cleared his throat and set his keys and phone on the table. “To be honest with you, I really don’t know anything about this place. There was an ad for it in my college, and I matched the qualifications listed, and I’m in desperate need for money.” He shrugged. “You have my resume, so you probably already know I’ve T.A’d in the chemistry department. I’m comfortable in the lab and working by myself. Um, there isn’t much else to say about me.” 

This was the absolute _worst_ thing to ever say in a job interview. He cringed and waited for the reprimand, but Dr. Holt laughed. 

“I appreciate your honesty,” he said. “We have been vague in our advertising on purpose, as the subject matter of this lab is highly sensitive. You will have to sign waiver forms as not to reveal what you see or do here, understand?” 

Shady, but Keith nodded. If this job gave him a chance to eat and keep going to school… 

“We will require you to run some tests in our lab and record what you find. You’ll also be tasked with clean up duties. It’s the rookie’s luck, I’m afraid.” 

“I’m fine with that,” Keith said with a shrug. 

“And I must stress—you absolutely cannot say a single word about what sort of work you do in here. Nor what you see.” 

“I won’t even say I work here,” Keith promised, suddenly glad and nervous that he had come here without Lance and Hunk. What was so sensitive about the data handled here? He had heard of laboratories that handled animals or medical facilities that included abortive services having to go low-profile due to onslaught of threats and witch hunts from the ignorant and ill-informed public, but there was nothing thus far of this lab to indicate it was one or the other. 

In fact, there was nothing about this lab that informed Keith of what sort of material it handled at all. 

Dr. Holt led him back out. Their footsteps echoed in the empty, pristine walls, and chills ran up Keith’s spine. He pulled his jacket tighter against himself, sniffling back and fighting the chatter of teeth. The longer the tour went on, the lack of a large staff became more apparent; Keith and Merla and Dr. Holt must have been the only other ones working here. 

He focused as Dr. Holt pointed to this area and that, going a mile a minute about what room was used for what: all samples stored here, storage room for all apparatuses and beakers and other supplies here, main laboratory here, the shower room in case he gets contaminated by chemicals or blood, best to use the centrifuge located in here, the mass spectrometer located in there…

“Never enter this room, even while cleaning up,” Dr. Holt said and tapping his finger several times next to a door, as if tapping would ingrain the rule into Keith’s mind. 

Keith studied the door with a confused furrowed look.

Dr. Holt chuckled sheepishly. “Leads to the basement, and the stair’s busted. Don’t want you injuring yourself. Ah, Dr. Honerva!” 

Keith turned around and saw a small lithe woman in a long white coat approach. Though elderly, she walked with a sort of inner fire Keith had never seen in anyone before. She had greyish white hair that contrasted with her brown skin, and sharp eyes that scrutinized Keith as if she could dissect him on the spot. 

“Keith, this is Dr. Agatha Honerva. Doctor, this is our newest recruit.” 

“Pleasure,” Dr. Honerva said. “I take it you’ve informed him of the stair-less room?” 

Dr. Holt nodded and smiled. “Now, for your ID, Keith…” 

The ID card functioned as his badge, which seemed pointless as there were virtually no other staff, and for getting in as the front door was tightly secured and required a keycard. 

But getting his ID card wasn’t all they wanted. A background check was conducted, as well as a urine test. A blood test as well, which Keith had found weird, but consented to it all the same. Then came the paperwork, a great amount of it. Dr. Holt stopped by for Keith and him to discuss his schedule. Other than Tuesdays, Keith could come in every afternoon after class and help out. He didn’t think it would affect his studying. He had evenings, and he was always studying in the library when he wasn’t in class or in the lab. That Organic Chem book was practically connected to him. There was also Saturday mornings, as the lab had hours until noon, and Keith was willing to work then as well. Anything to get himself enough cash to keep afloat. 

He didn’t mention that he had nothing going on Thursday mornings. For one, getting back to campus in time for his lab could prove difficult, and he cherished that period for catching up on studying (as if he needed more time). 

He also didn’t want to confess that he could have been here earlier today, opening up the subject of the investigation going on. 

“Did you have to sign this waiver too?” Keith asked when it was time for the form. Merla just smiled and nodded. “Er, am I all set?” 

Merla pored through everything he had given her. “Appears so. Any questions?” 

Keith shook his head. 

She smiled again. “Looks like you’re all set, then! First day will be tomorrow.” 

“Great!” 

“Nice meeting you, Keith,” she said. “We look forward to working with you.” 

Robotic, Keith thought. 

“Looking forward to it,” Keith said. He made to turn around and leave when something struck him, an emptiness—oh! 

“My phone and keys!” He glanced back at Merla sheepishly. “Sorry, I must have left them behind when Dr. Holt was interviewing me…” 

He dashed back through the door and into the hall before Merla could say anything. A moment of panic seized him as he couldn’t recall which room it was. Surely it was one nearby…and, so what if he accidentally walked into the wrong room? He could explain everything to Dr. Holt if he or Dr. Honerva caught him—

The scream pierced through him, dousing him in a dread so ice-cold his breath seized in his throat, frozen-dry. 

What the hell was that? 

Heart pounding, Keith scanned the vicinity. Another scream followed. 

Dr. Holt? 

He craned his neck, searching for the source. Immediately his eyes fell on the door Dr. Holt had explicitly told him not to enter. The supposed stair-less basement. Light flickered under the door; the screaming was coming from there, as well as—was that Dr. Honerva laughing? 

Was she hurting Dr. Holt? Or…was someone else in there? 

That was when he heard Dr. Holt’s calm and calculated voice address Dr. Honerva. From this distance, Keith couldn’t discern the actual words. Another scream followed, a gurgled cry. Pain. So much pain. 

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be witnessing this. 

From the corner of his eyes, he spotted the interview room ajar, his phone and keys waiting. He just had to run in, grab them, and leave. Pretend he heard nothing, saw nothing. He had agreed to this job, whatever this was. 

Oh God, what if they walk out now? What if they see him? 

He tiptoed to the room, shot the room another glance, then sped in and grabbed his phone the exact moment the victim inside gave a horrid, high-pitched wail like an animal being skinned alive. 

_“NO, NO, STOP IT, PLEASE STOP IT!”_

Every hair on Keith’s skin stood on end and he fell to his knees, clamping his hands over his ears and screwing his eyes shut as tears threatened to spill. 

_Get up!_ he warned himself. _Shit, get up!_

Struggling to his feet, he worked on steadying his breath, fighting to keep calm—_look calm_—as he ran through the doors, waved to Merla, and made his way out.

⁂

The man’s voice continued to haunt him.

Back in the safety of his apartment, Keith wept freely. There was so much pain in that voice, so much fear, so much agony, so much—just too much. And Keith understood him. Without even knowing what was going on in there, without even knowing who that man was, Keith’s heart broke for him. 

He wished he could tell Hunk. Tell anyone. He had half a mind to call up Lieutenant Allura and report the whole laboratory, but after the way they had handled his case so far with Roy…he was sure to be suspected of being mentally unhinged. And if Roy could easily evade arrest, then Dr. Holt and Honerva definitely could.

Besides, what if there was something more here that Keith wasn’t privy to? What if his trauma had messed with his mind enough that he thought he was hearing someone being tortured when it reality…the whole point of their secrecy had more to do with animal testing or the like? 

What if the screaming only came from a television that the two were watching while doing something else in there? Perhaps Dr. Honerva loved watching horror flicks while experimenting the effects of new pharmaceuticals on animals, that’s all. That’s the reason for the secrecy. 

Was _that_ even the forbidden room? Maybe he had it all mixed up. 

“I’m so fucked up,” Keith whispered in his hands. He couldn’t trust his own memories. Maybe his own final memories with Roy had all been fabricated after all. 

Still, he thought as he lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, no matter how good of an actor anyone was, no one could ever capture such a deep-set agony the way that scream had…it wasn’t pleasant, not knowing what any of this was…Keith squeezed his eyes shut and didn’t fight back the yawn.

It wasn’t fair either. Dr. Holt and Dr. Honerva knew the ins and outs of him; they even had his blood sample. He seldom knew anything about them, not even the nature of this company. Perhaps he could research a little more, at least for himself, just to get his mind at ease, lest the screaming never stopped in his head… 

…the wide field, the silhouette of a dark forest, a single tree overhead with the gnarled bark. Kicking, screaming, the roots of his hair burning as he was dragged. Screaming at the top of his lungs in vain; no one will save you. 

The panic as he heard the shovel dig into the hard earth. Struggling against piling dirt. No! Why, Roy? 

Being spat on. Kicked. His stomach burned, burned—he vomited, screamed, begged to be released…blood soaked his jeans. This wasn’t normal—Roy, stop this—

_No!_—dragged and thrown, Keith tried to claw at him, tried to crawl his way out even as dirt dropped over his head. 

“Roy, why?” Keith screamed as dirt filled his mouth, choking him. “It’s your baby!”


	3. After Hours

Dr. Samuel Holt had come to study his masters in Chiberia University at the recommendation of an old friend, First Officer Oscar Ozar. The two had known one another since Holt was young, about to enter junior high school, and Ozar a senior in high school. The two met at an event in Ozar’s summer program that paired up each teen with the task of mentoring a preteen. The “big sib, little sib” pair had hit it off and continued the friendship well beyond the single afternoon. 

First Officer Ozar had made a residence for himself in Chiberia years before Holt had moved from Cherryport, Maine. His passion was for flight and aircraft, and he had become an aviator, with Chiberia as his home base. An odd choice, as Chiberia was known to have incredibly cold winters, dreary springs and autumns, and blistering summers—indeed, the idea of an average day was virtually unheard of in Chiberia—but Ozar adored the famed “City of Wind” all the same. And when he had heard his old friend was searching for a good school to continue his studies into neuropathophysiology, he insisted Holt come to Chiberia. 

Despite their vast difference in occupations, the two friends had kept a steady correspondence over the years. Ozar was present for Holt’s graduation from his Masters program, and again to see him earn his Doctorate. 

Then correspondence was suddenly cut off. Holt had fallen deathly ill and was hospitalized for three weeks. When he was finally discharged from the hospital, Ozar wasn’t returning his calls or emails. Holt had thought nothing of it at first, as Ozar could sometimes go on for weeks or months without replying or answering his calls due to his occupation. So Dr. Holt had resumed his own job, finding his footing back into his daily life, and was soon so busy with his own work that he had forgotten about Ozar’s silence. 

That was, until six months later when a dreadful awakening alerted Holt to the reason for Ozar’s sudden silence. With coffee set next to his student planner, Holt was preparing for his lecture that day when the morning news brought up an update about the tragic plane crash six months prior that had claimed the lives of everyone on board. The ongoing search and digging had finally been awarded with the plane’s black box. 

Holt had felt the tiny hairs of his arms stand as his eyes read the faded logo of the plane, recognizing it as a plane from Chiberia’s biggest airline company. 

Ozar had stopped corresponding with him six months ago. 

And Holt, meanwhile, had been too ill to know anything of the happenings outside of his hospital room. By the time he was discharged, news coverage had turned focus on other matters. 

With a panicked heart, Holt bolted down to Ozar’s residence, all thought of class out of his mind. He pounded on the door, hoping against hope that it wasn’t Ozar on that fateful flight—it had to be someone else, Ozar couldn’t have—

“Who’s that?” came a small voice like a frightened bird inside the house. 

Holt frowned. Ozar never mentioned anyone else living with him. 

He cleared his throat. “I wish to speak with First Officer Oscar Ozar. I’m a close friend of his.”

The door slowly opened a notch and a blue eye gazed up at him. 

“Are you an investigator?” she asked. “I told you everything you need to know. My dad’s dead.” 

The ground must have disappeared underneath Holt’s feet. “No, I’m a friend of his. I’ve known him for many years. I’m Dr. Samuel Holt.” 

The door swung open and he stepped inside, looking around in the faint and vain hope his eyes would fall on Ozar. But instead the house was empty, in a state of disarray. A young woman stood a little far off. She must have been the one to have answered the door, for she was the only occupant of the house. A tiny and frail woman, her dirty blonde hair reached her ears. Her apron was dirty and full of wet handprints. She walked barefoot. 

Half the house was still dusty, but Holt couldn’t fault her for falling behind on trying to keep the place intact. 

“It’s just you here?” Holt asked.

The woman nodded. “First Officer Ozar was my father. I’m Colleen Ozar.” She pointed to a photograph hanging in the hall, which showed a younger Ozar with a little girl. “He had me when he was very young. Got a girl pregnant in his first year of college. She wanted to get rid of me, so when she came back to live with her parents, she tucked me away and dropped me off at the firehouse nearby. When Dad found out, he searched for me in the orphanage and then made a home for ourselves here.” 

Stunned, Holt nodded. Ozar had never mentioned a daughter. Perhaps he was ashamed, as Holt was just in junior high school by the time Ozar had fathered a child? He must not have wanted Holt to ever know. 

“Oh, the hash browns!” Colleen gasped and rushed into the kitchen. The smell of burned potatoes filled Holt’s nose. Colleen busied herself at the stove and filled the table with fried eggs, pancakes, bacon, sausages, burned hash browns…

“Dad always had a healthy appetite,” Colleen said a little apologetically. “I always make enough for two…if he wants to join in.” 

A shadow crossed her eyes, and Holt looked away, uncomfortable with the thought of having to soothe a cryer. Not that he wasn’t feeling how she looked. Ozar…Ozar! 

“You must have already had breakfast, but you can stay and join me if you want?” Colleen asked after a moment. “I made a lot of food.” 

Looking up, Holt offered her a warm smile. “Of course.”

⁂

A few years after that first meeting, Samuel Holt and Colleen Ozar married.

Keith frowned as he studied the photo of the family with their children. This one was taken just three years ago for some local event celebrating Dr. Holt’s achievement. They had a son and a daughter, and…Keith had to enlarge the image on his phone, so dead certain he had seen that face before. Was it Matt or Katie he had met passing in the chemistry lab hall earlier that week? 

_So that was why Dr. Holt looked vaguely familiar…_

Keith set the phone down and rubbed his eyes. His final class of the day was coming up, and he had spent every free hour researching into the history and life of Dr. Holt. He was left with more questions than anything, and it didn’t help with the ill feeling he had when he had left the lab yesterday. For one, while he could dig up the local romance story of Sam and Colleen, there was nothing to suggest why Dr. Holt was suddenly working in a laboratory. A brief mention of him teaching a lecture, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was a professor. 

Neuropathophysiology? Did the lab have something to do with diseases of the brain? What sort of work was he about to conduct there for Dr. Holt? 

He hadn’t even begun to research Dr. Agatha Honerva, and Keith wasn’t sure what he was going to find…and neither if he was looking forward to finding out more about her. 

Shaking his head, Keith collected his bags and made for his last class for the week.

⁂

Given the way he had exited the lab last time, Keith was half-surprised his keycard still worked and that neither Merla nor anyone else commented on his behavior. Perhaps they had believed he hadn’t heard the commotion, as unlikely as it was; after all, unless Merla or security cameras gave Keith away, they wouldn’t have even known Keith was there.

Either Merla had kept her mouth sealed tight about Keith running back into the main lab, or Drs. Holt and Honerva decided they trusted Keith enough—or they had plans to kill Keith next—but no matter: Keith wasn’t in trouble. 

Still, he vowed to not step one toe out of line. No matter what.

After clocking in, Dr. Holt led him to a small lab and gave him his first day’s tasks. He was given some chemical samples he had to run a few tests through, all of which he recognized from Organic Chemistry class. He was also give some blood tests. A few would be treated with the chemical samples and run through a machine. Others had to be centrifuged first before the sample was then read in a specialized machine. Rather simple for someone who had never handled blood before. 

“And just record everything in the data log?” Keith asked, frowning slightly at the lab book. So old-fashioned when they could be inputting everything into a computer data spreadsheet, but he wasn’t going to argue with them. 

“Yes,” Dr. Holt said. “You cannot imagine how invaluable your work is for us, Keith.” 

Keith put on a nervous smile as he placed on his safety goggles. 

“Oh, and…feel free to turn on the radio. You may blast it as loud as you want. The walls are soundproof so they won’t bother Agatha and I.” 

Keith gave a light chuckle. _Soundproof?!_ And yet he had heard that…thing…loud and clear… “Do I look like the kind, Dr. Holt?” 

But he obliged, searching for the alternate rock station and soon his small corner of this mysterious lab was filled with Nirvana, Metallica, and Tool as he went to work. Soon enough the music melded in the background, the heavy bass and crashing guitar no longer distracting him. His mind attuned to the familiar and comforting surroundings around him: test tubes, beakers, flasks, graduated cylinders, bunsen burner, burettes, a hotplate—

It was a defense mechanism. Since the…incident…he carried that Organic Chemistry book with him as if it were his lifeblood. He sucked in every word of it, memorized the formulas, the types of interactions and exceptions, got so engrossed in the material that chemistry had become second nature to him. He worked with seldom needing to reference his textbook. 

His new professor at Celestial City University had commended him for his seemingly natural affinity for the subject, but Keith had to credit it for being the only thing that kept him afloat after…_Roy_.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Keith pulled himself back to full attention at the task on hand, not daring to let his mind wander. Not now. Not on his first day. Not even when a scream erupted in the next room, taking him by surprise, did Keith let it tear him away.

Not one toe out of line. 

He will not think of Roy. 

Another scream. 

He jotted down the data in the lab book. Another set of tests. 

Another scream, drawn out, filling with blood, and rattling in Keith’s mind. 

Centrifuged the blood sample.

A gargled stream of begging filtered through the walls, mingling with some depressing Audioslave tune. Keith kept his eyes on the blood sample being read, and thought: _This is the man’s blood I’m testing._

Biting his lower lip, his heart thumped heavily as the print out came out, but was immediately disappointed when no name nor any other information—no date of birth, nor address of residence, no ethnicity. Nothing. 

Keith has had blood tests done before, but the print out on the lab side must have been wildly different. A bunch of codes he had no way of reading. He couldn’t even tell if the man’s ‘WBC’ and ‘HCT’ were supposed to be considered normal. He attached the findings to the lab book. 

“Impressive work,” Dr. Honerva said when she checked back on Keith hours later. He had gotten himself so deep in the zone of the experiment he had completely lost track of time. It must have been dark outside by now, but Dr. Honerva was smiling as she studied his work. 

“Hope you didn’t run into any trouble? Nothing was a cause of bother?”

Ah. Keith noted the carefully-phrased words meant to trap him in. He swallowed thickly. 

“Uh, no,” he said, playing it calm. “I have all of the supplies I need here, so I didn’t leave the lab at all. I sorta just lost myself in here, to be honest. I didn’t even know how much time had passed.” 

“Goodness,” Dr. Honerva chuckled. “You didn’t even take a break for lunch—well, it’s too late for that anyway—for dinner?” 

Keith shrugged. “I’m used to going long periods of time without eating.” 

Dr. Honerva’s lips stretched into a thin line. “Don’t be afraid to bring a snack with you. I don’t want anyone collapsing. It’ll be best you do it out of this lab, of course.” 

Keith nodded. “Er, I only remember my way to the room Dr. Holt interviewed me in. I can eat there if that’s fine.” 

Dr. Honerva chuckled as she turned back to Keith’s data. “More than fine. Ah, yes, this particular experiment will require a few hours.” She gestured to one of the samples. “It’ll settle overnight. Care to return tomorrow morning? I would hate to cut into your social life.” 

Keith nodded. “I don’t…really have a social life. I’m sort of…new to the city, to be honest.” 

Dr. Honerva smiled grimly. “You remind me of myself. Nose always in a book. And then I met my husband. Although I suppose falling in love only fueled my thirst for research.”

Keith didn’t move. Husband? He was about to blurt if “Honerva” was her married or maiden surname—it could aid with researching her later—but he knew better than to bluntly ask. 

Was this a little clue just handed over to him? A nugget to give him some explanation of what sort of lab he was working for? Falling in love had fueled her desire for research…

But the old woman was heavily reserved, and after a long stretch of silence, Keith just nodded again. 

“Yeah.” 

“You ever been in a relationship?”

Keith tensed. “Once. It ended badly.” 

Dr. Honerva made a little “tut” sound. “No reason to give up.”

Keith lowered his head, thanked her and wished her a good evening. On his way out, he said bye to Dr. Holt.

“See you in a few hours,” Dr. Holt said with an amused smile. 

Keith tried to smile back. Something about Dr. Honerva unnerved him; he could attribute it to just not know that much about her, but he couldn’t quite explain it. Wasn’t it Dr. Honerva he had heard laughing the other day? Meanwhile, Dr. Holt always carried a more calming presence about him, but maybe that was only because Keith knew a little more about him.

Still. He had to wonder what were they keeping in that secret room, especially if Dr. Honerva was trying to discern if Keith would bring mention of it. 

Keith didn’t. Not the following morning, and not the Monday after.

⁂

“The help wanted sign is gone,” Lance pointed out to Keith the next time they had lab together. “Looks like someone else got the position. Happy?”

Keith just shrugged and returned to his lab book before noticing a tiny figure dash across the campus courtyard. 

It was one of the Holt siblings.

⁂

Keith fell into routine. Work after classes every Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday after class; and Saturday mornings. Lab was closed on Sundays. Use the keycard to come in, clock in, gown up in his lab coat, goggles, and gloves, pick up the stack of tasks they set out for him to do, bury himself in the small lab allotted for his use, switch on the radio, and lose himself for the four or so hours until it was time to leave.

Keith honored Dr. Honerva’s wishes and brought snacks or a small lunch with him afterwards, either an energy bar or something light he could munch on while scrolling through his phone. 

Sometimes he was tasked with sweeping up the place. The rookie’s luck, as Dr. Holt had called it. Keith didn’t argue with it. He needed the money and needed to be on their good graces. 

Despite looking up Dr. Honerva multiple times, Keith was finding her a lot more difficult to research, and even now, weeks later, she was as much a mystery to him as she had been on his first day. 

Hearing their victim yelling in the next room had become a practice in keeping his own emotions steady. Keith knew someone else in his place would have contacted the police, but Keith had first hand experience with investigators. Just going based on facts, he was either a lunatic making up the incident with Roy or a poor victim of some isolated crime whose trauma had led him to believe the culprit was his own ex. 

Bullshit. 

Keith kept himself busy whenever the screaming began, but he would be lying if the voice didn’t dig under his skin. Every time a scream broke out, Keith felt it reverberate in his ribs, and his heart clenched. Too many times his mind warped out of the present—

—_No, no, Roy! What are you doing?! Roy, stop! STOP, PLEASE!_—

—and Keith would find himself gripping the edge of the table, chest heaving. 

Sucking in a deep breath, Keith would whisper, “Hang in there, friend,” and try to move on. Sink himself into the music blasting from his radio. Try not to think of Roy. Of the time he screamed himself hoarse. 

The man didn’t always cry, and that was perhaps worse. He would weep while Dr. Honerva’s voice carried through, a song on her lips followed by a dark laugh. Whenever it was Dr. Holt in there, he was considerably kinder, but the man within fought against him all the same. 

He begged. He prayed. He recited lines from poetry and literature, his baritone voice silky and smooth that it burrowed its way into Keith’s heart and, against his wishes, gripped him. The words filled his head, pulling him ever closer to the man. 

_“I am thy creature: I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed.”_

Keith swallowed thickly and set the test tube back in the rack lest the tube slipped from his shaking hands. Why did this particular line get to him so deeply? 

Adam…fallen angel…denied from joy for no misdeed. 

Fuck if Keith could relate to that. His hand absentmindedly fell down to his belly. _Drivest from joy for no misdeed._

⁂

“Mom, what are we having for dinner?” _I’m starving_ would have been the next words out of her mouth, but saying so felt too ungrateful and pushy. Although Pidge’s stomach rumbled audibly, she threw her backpack onto the stairs and peeked around the corner into the kitchen. Her mother had flinched at the small sound of the backpack hitting the carpeted stairs, and nearly yelped when it had leaned over and fell back onto the wooden landing.

“Oh, Katie, you’re home early,” she chuckled. 

Pidge frowned. It was almost six in the evening. 

“Meatloaf and grilled broccoli. You said grilling instead of steaming keeps the vitamins and minerals intact in the vegetable, and I want my girl to be strong for her studies! Katie in college!” 

Every word exactly the same as the day before. Just substitute it for a different dish. 

“Where’s Dad?” 

“At work, honey. He will be back later.” 

_Where does he work?_ He used to be a professor. He used to have an office at a research facility. He was never out this late. 

“Mom…when’s Matt coming home?” 

“Matt, dear?” Colleen cocked her head to one side. “Matt is away for his studies. He’ll be back for the holidays.” 

She couldn’t take it anymore. Dashing up the stairs, Pidge bolted her room shut and leaned against it, sinking down to the ground. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she hugged her knees against her chest and fought back a shudder as humming drifted from downstairs. No doubt Colleen had gone back to cooking, unfazed by her daughter ending the conversation abruptly. 

Ever since Matt disappeared her mother had become this robot. Her father, who used to have stories to tell after his job or things to bring home for Pidge to look at, had gone silent, coming home late at night and barely speaking to either of them. 

But everything was fine, they had informed her. Matt was just at University. 

As though Pidge was a little girl. As if she couldn’t figure it out.

Her father’s route took a different path. Where he once used to pull out the car to the right, he now went left. His hours grew longer. No talk of lectures or having to come up with exam questions. 

This went on for nearly two years. 

Did he die? The thought of that was too much; Matt was her best friend, and her parents would be terrible if they kept the truth from her. 

Run away? Did he commit some crime so heinous that his parents would have rather forgotten about him than face the truth? Was that the reason for the secrecy around her? But then how did that impact her father’s shift in career, unless the two were somehow just coincidence? 

No amount of research had turned up any clues, which was why Pidge had found herself combing every nook and cranny of the halls of her new college. Her parents thought she was at Chiberia University, just like her father, but really she had been accepted in two places. She went to Celestial City University, where Matt had been. 

“I’ll find you, Matt,” Pidge said under her breath.

⁂

Keith glanced around himself, broom in hand. It was after hours, and Drs. Holt and Honerva had long left the lab. Merla too had left, and Keith was tasked with cleaning up the place. It wasn’t the first time, and Keith was surprised with how much the staff had trusted him. He supposed his good behavior and having done such a good and thorough job on the chemical reactions had earned their respect and trust.

Which was why the temptation could cost him everything. But he was _right there_. The forbidden totally-not-a-stair-less-basement room stood just on Keith’s right, and his eye caught a small zigzag black shape made on the floor, created by door against the frame: the door was ajar. 

His heart leapt to his throat. He wouldn’t have to struggle with opening it. If he just swept the floor, bumped against it, made a show of closing the door, acting like it was all an accident, the camera would show that. It wouldn’t show how much he saw. 

He could do it if he timed himself. Over and over he played out his plan in his mind, his heart thumping so hard he nearly collapsed, dizzy with giddiness and the fear of being caught. 

With hyper-focus he swept until his backside brushed against the door and he stepped back. The door gave way easily. First step success. 

Now to peak inside and then close the door immediately.

But then that was when he saw him, and all thought of reason seeped from his mind. 

Transfixed, Keith found himself stepping inside the room, finding the switch and turning one light on, casting the room in a dim light just enough to give himself a proper view while not disturbing the inhabitant. 

A man far taller than himself lay strapped to an operating table. His skin was pallor, greyish and with a tinge of green…or perhaps that was the lighting? His hair was black, the back shaved into an undercut, and the front forelock was white, a pure burst of snow. His face had a large scar running across the bridge of his nose, and Keith wondered if he was forced to wear a muzzle at one point. Other scars ran through his face, heavily stitched. More stitches ran down his body, visible even on his wrists…well, wrist. His right arm was mostly removed, and some sort of robotic arm settled on a tray beside him. It was still not attached to him. 

Through all the fear, Keith’s mind also found a word to describe him: Beautiful. Strange and beautiful. 

And also—oddly familiar. Keith was so certain he had seen him in the halls a few times at Celestial City University when he had first moved in…or it could have just been his mind playing tricks at him again. 

Then the realization hit him: this was the man who had been screaming all this time while Keith tried to pretend he heard nothing. This was the man Drs. Holt and Honerva experimented on now. The man whose voice moved Keith to tears. 

At that moment, the man’s eyes flashed open. Keith gasped and took a step back. Without Drs. Holt or Honerva to sedate him, Keith felt suddenly vulnerable being in the same room as him. What if he was able to break through the binds? 

The man found Keith and locked gaze with him. Stared, silent. 

“Sorry,” Keith finally managed in a soft tone. “Sorry if I disturbed you. I was just cleaning around here.” 

He slowly backed out and closed the door behind him. Not once did the man speak with him.

⁂

Lieutenant Ulaz gazed out his window as the city below grew closer. The pilot overhead announced their arrival time and the seat belt signal flashed. His partner Thace poked him, and Ulaz threw him an annoyed glance and pointed at his waist.

“Already ahead of you,” he said in their tongue. 

“So this is where our investigation leads?” Thace said, unfazed. He peered over Ulaz’s shoulders. “Somewhere in this city?” 

“Yeah,” Ulaz chuckled. “Trying sifting through a population of three million. Like finding a needle in a haystack.” 

“But it’s an important needle,” Thace said. “Sven Holgersson has gone missing from his grave, and all evidence points that someone in Chiberia has taken his body.”


	4. Clear As Day

She had seen him in this area a few times now during her search, and while she was not one to act based on emotions, she couldn’t shake the feeling this guy was somehow connected to her father. 

Pidge frowned. How to approach him? 

No amount of sleuthing around the chemistry department was getting her any closer to finding out more about Matt. All that she could glean was that her brother wasn’t a current pupil, despite this being where he went to school. 

“Hey, you keep coming here,” a voice said behind her. 

Startled, Pidge tried to make herself nonchalant. Staring at the bulletin board, she noted two shadows fall over her. “Yeah, just looking for more information on the school’s chemistry program. A friend is interested in signing up.” 

“You can find more at the register’s office,” one of the guys said. 

Drat. Found. 

“There was a job listing for a lab not too far away, but the most qualified guy lazed up on getting it and now it’s gone!” 

“Lance, you’re still on about that?” 

“Wait, a job listing?” Pidge turned to them. “How recent was this?” She had been snooping around here for a while, but she must have missed that note. 

“Oh yeah!” said the guy named Lance. “Just over in downtown. I drove Keith over there—” he motioned towards some direction— “all the way for the interview, but he chickened out!” 

Her heart quickened. It wasn’t proof of anything. It could lead to Matt or not, but it was worth a shot. “Do you remember the address?”

⁂

Eyes bore down on him from every direction. Piercing, deprecating, shredding him of every stitch of his clothing. Their mouths were stretched from ear to ear, sneering and lapping at his gaping wounds, his humiliation, his pain.

And all the while James Griffin stood, arms folded, and watched as Keith staggered through the halls, his shame plastered around every inch of their college. 

How did he know? How did he get this information? And while they were never on friendly terms, Keith wanted to believe he would at least be respectful enough to not go spilling everything to the entire campus and—

Keith jolted up. His heart hammered. What brought on this memory? As if the recent nightmares of Roy wasn’t bad enough, Griffin’s behavior shortly after was just as bad. 

Eyes…eyes all over him. 

That was, ultimately, how he felt right now. How he felt going back to the lab. He had committed a huge breach in trust last evening. Today was Saturday, and that meant returning to the lab in the morning. Any repercussions of his actions would be dealt with immediately. 

That had to explain the nightmare. He wasn’t going mad. 

He realized he was still in bed, shivering despite being buried under five layers of blankets. Peeking over the heavy mountain of layers, he spotted the LED digital clock, noted the time, and pushed himself out of bed. 

Time to face the consequences of his actions.

⁂

Except, there were none.

Keith found himself entering the lab with ease, his keycard working without a hitch, and was greeted by Merla as if it was any other day. Perhaps they just hadn’t viewed the camera, he surmised as he gowned up.

One hour into his lab work, two hours…and no one approached him. The cold jitters that set in his hands and bubbled sickly in his stomach only began to abate by lunchtime. He kept one eye on the door as he absent-mindedly scrolled through the news feed on his phone, waiting for Dr. Holt to step in at any moment with a frown and furrowed brow and speak to him of his actions the night before. 

But none of that happened. 

Maybe they didn’t have any cameras. Or they knew what went on inside the experimentation room and figured there was no harm done. 

Or the man inside the lab spoke on Keith’s behalf, defending him. 

Shit—that man! What if he had snitched on Keith! 

At that thought, Keith almost had to laugh. Given his situation, strapped and carved up grotesquely, that guy didn’t exactly hold any power over Keith. Immediately, the smug smile disappeared off Keith. How’d _he_ feel in this man’s place? 

Suddenly finding himself on his feet, he peeked out of the hall. All was empty. He wasn’t even sure if Drs. Holt and Honerva were working on the man this morning; he was so nervous about any confrontation of having been in the experimentation room that his nerves must have drowned out any noise. 

Meetings. Maybe they were at a meeting. They held them every now and again, poring through data and notes and discussing where to next go with their research. Keith was never part of them, although he knew of their existence. They held them in some conference room Keith never stepped foot in. If Drs. Holt and Honerva were at a meeting—and they could take many hours—and if they hadn’t said anything about last night…

Keith swallowed thickly, feeling a hard, cold lump in his throat. Once was risking it bad enough. Twice was suicide. But curiosity gripped him. 

_Damn, I don’t want to do this again!_

He was hoping a glimpse yesterday would have been enough to satisfy the thirst to know more about the company he was working for, but it was proving to only inflame it. He had to cut it off dead—_now_—but…maybe just a little more. Just get to know the man in the experimentation room and why they were conducting these tests, and what exactly this was all about. Some boring research on some medication, yeah. And that guy was probably just some automation. Yeah. He wasn’t real at all. But…just to make sure. Keith just had to make sure. 

Cold to the core and skittish over the slightest sound , Keith slipped out of the break room and made for the experimentation room. The man within was asleep, looking handsome and sad, pale and so…used. 

From Keith’s vantage point, he couldn’t see anyone else inside. And no one else was in the hall. All was silent. They were likely in the conference room, then.

Keith went in. 

Over on the other side of the room was a filing cabinet. Files on the man? Perhaps, considering that they used old-fashioned lab notebooks to jot down their data. Keith checked around himself again before gingerly making his way across. Breath held, he tiptoed around the table, careful not to make the slightest sound. One drawer stood popped open, and Keith’s heart leapt—had it been pushed all the way in, he would have had another problem on his hands, and what if jingling with the file cabinet to get it to open woke the man, or alerted them to his presence? 

One more step. He reached the cabinet. He exhaled as his heart thumped even faster. A small cold fog misted before his lips. 

_Just do it. You came this far._

He gave the drawer the tiniest of tugs, praying it wouldn’t squeak. The latch caught onto the tiny wheel, and he felt around, working with it and slowly rolled it out until it stood wide open. 

_There’s no turning back now._

Taking a slow, deep breath, Keith sifted through the files. Shaking fingers flipped through manilla folder after manilla folder, searching for something to give some idea of who or what this man was. Most were lab data and notes, nothing that gave him much information at a glance. 

He had to dig deeper into the pile. 

Oh God, how much time did he have left? 

His search took him to a thick manilla folder at the very back, the edges creased and torn. Multiple files were within, each stack held together by paperclips. Some were yellowed by age. 

He almost dropped the whole thing in his haste fishing it out. As his heart leapt to his throat, nearly choking him bad enough to the point of blindness, Keith turned the flap of the first page. 

“Oh…fuck,” he mouthed. 

The first stack had a name, a photo, and a date of birth followed by a date of death. 

_Takashi “Shiro” Shirogane, February 29, 1088 P.F - December 14, 1113 P.F. _

_B: Kyoto, Japan. D: Plaht City, Arizona._

_Blood Type: O Pos._

_Died in his sleep after fighting a degenerative muscle illness known as—_

There was more, but Keith’s mind had gone numb. Was the man lying a few feet away Shiro? 

There was another file underneath his: 

_Ryou Ryūsei, March 4, 1081 P.F - April 8, 1112 P.F_

_Blood Type: O Pos. _

_Died by suicide (hanging). Mental status prior to the diagnosis of depression in 1099 was stable, whereas—_

The photo didn't match the man on the table, yet the death was recent enough. Another file: 

_"Kuro" _

_Birth date not known. Died on June 10, 1016 P.F. Dangerous criminal charged on multiple accounts of murder and arson. Killed himself in jail cell in avoidance of trial. Organs displayed optimal function—_

Was that the man here? Keith cringed at the thought, hoping it wasn't. No, he appeared more like the first man on the first file. 

He flipped through the others, glimpsing names: Sven Holgersson, died in 1112; Jiro Kurogane, died June 15, 1098, Adm. James Hawkins, died in 1089; Ma—

“Keith, what are you doing in here?” 

This time, Keith _did_ drop the entire folder. Pale-faced, he stared at the side-open doorway, gazes locked with Dr. Sam Holt. The man on the table—Shiro?—stirred from his sleep, one eye cracking open. He took note of his two visitors but said nothing. 

“Uh, uh…” Keith stammered, his entire mind and body having frozen. Many pairs of eyes were staring at him, sneering.

“Keith…” Dr. Holt’s voice dripped with heaviness and shame. “Why are you here?”

⁂

Chiberia lived to its promise of being a very windy and cold city. It was mid October, and though no snow touched the ground just yet, the promise of an early and long winter lingered in the air.

They reached the city at 11:24PM Friday evening and grabbed a taxi to the nearest hotel. As Lieutenant Thace unpacked their luggage, Lieutenant Ulaz took a stroll through the area, and when he returned, it was with a map tucked into the pocket of his jacket. 

“There’s a lab not too far from here,” he informed Thace, who stood before the drawer on his knees. “I asked around what sort of work they do, but I got no clear answer. No one understood what went on there. Likely it’s not the sort of work one would advertise.” 

“Are you thinking forensics, Ulaz?” Thace said.

Ulaz nodded. 

Rubbing his chin, Thace got to his feet. “We won’t come knocking right away, just in case. But keep the place in mind for future scooping. For now it would be in our best interest if we sought other investigators from this region.” 

Ulaz nodded as he made a note on the map. 

“Have there been other reports of similar gravesite disappearances?” 

“I have asked about that, actually.” 

Thace smiled. “You didn’t waste any time, did you?” 

“Actually, you will find some very interesting and odd responses among the people I’ve interviewed.” 

“Very well. What is it?” 

Ulaz slid over to the desk and popped open his laptop. He pulled up a few names, before suddenly stopping as something caught his eye.

“Oh, now _this_ I wasn’t expecting!” he announced triumphantly. He kept grinning as he kept pulling up more photos and online obituaries associated with every name. Thace tried to get a look over Ulaz’s shoulder, but his partner took up most of the view. He lined his findings up in the web browser for his impromptu slideshow, then pushed his swivel chair aside so Thace could finally get a better look. 

“Huh…they all share a resemblance to Sven Holgersson,” Thace said as he jumped from one tab to another. 

“That isn’t all,” Ulaz said. “There must be more similarities between them. Biological ones, something that whoever’s doing this is targeting these graves in particular. And one of them will lead us right to the culprit.

“Now, interestingly enough, one of these victims happens to be from here…”

⁂

“Keith, what are you doing here?”

Keith’s mind went completely blank, cold and numb. He racked his brains for an excuse—he was…looking for something to use in the lab! But he couldn’t suddenly remember the name of any instrument around him—his hands shook with what remained of the file in hand. 

Dr. Holt stepped closer, and Keith swallowed thickly. His life was over. He had gotten used to being able to afford a proper meal and paying for school and now…

He blew it all. And for what? 

He couldn’t react. Couldn’t move. What the hell was wrong with him? Had his time in the other school fucked him that badly in the head? 

—Roy, it was all Roy…and that Griffin—

He had to come up with an excuse, his entire livelihood depended on it, or, or—

A heavy hand clamped over his shoulder, and Dr. Holt’s face loomed over his. 

“You’re lucky Dr. Honerva left early today,” Dr. Holt said in a low voice. 

Keith blinked. Had he heard that right? “What?” 

A grim smile crossed Dr. Holt’s face. “If she was the one who caught you, you would have been in bigger trouble. I won’t let her know about this, but I’m not happy about it either, Keith.” 

“Am I…in trouble?” 

“No. You’re too valuable.”

A rush of warmth flowed through Keith’s veins that he become nearly light-headed. He could almost kiss Dr. Holt’s feet.

“Thank you,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut and cursing himself for how pathetic he must look right now. “I didn’t mean to snoop. I just…I’ve been hearing him screaming—”

Dr. Holt raised a hand, hushing him. “Let’s continue this outside, before he _gets ideas_.” 

Keith nodded. Dr. Holt retrieved the file back from Keith and slipped it back in its proper place in the drawer, closing it without making a single sound. They crossed the lab, and Keith kept his eyes on the sleeping man, wondering what would happen next now that he had been found. 

Dr. Holt brought him to the break room where he motioned for Keith to sit and closed the door. Once inside, Keith immediately began his story anew. 

“Yeah, so I’ve been hearing him screaming in there every time I was working in the lab,” he continued. “I’ve been ignoring him and pretending I didn’t hear anything. I didn’t want to upset anyone—I _really_ need the money to stay in school. But I wondered who it was. I don’t really care what you’re researching if it’s a new medicine or what. I’m not here to steal your secrets. I was just…curious about the man who sounded like he was in pain. So yesterday while I was cleaning I noticed the door to the lab was open, and I couldn’t help myself and…looked inside…”

He ended his story with a shrug and waited to see if he had pressed his luck. 

But Dr. Holt didn’t look bothered at all. 

“Of course,” he said. “It’s only human nature to be curious. I may bring it up with Dr. Honerva to allow you in the lab. You’ve already seen what we’ve been hiding from you. May as well let you in every now and again. It was her idea to keep you out as she didn’t trust you.” 

“I swear I will not tell a soul,” Keith said. “I still have no idea what you’re doing in there, and I…I don’t care. I don’t have anyone who would listen to me, anyway.” 

Dr. Holt studied him for a long time before finally speaking. “Want to know who that man is, Keith?” 

“Um…it really isn’t my business.” 

“His name was Takashi Shirogane. ‘Shiro’ to his friends. He died some time ago from a terrible incurable illness, but he was selected for our research that aims to reverse any illness even at the point of death. Think of it as a means of rebooting the entire human body.”

“That sounds…amazing,” Keith said. Shiro. So that man _was_ Shiro. And if Dr. Honerva allowed him back into the lab, Keith will for sure read through his entire file. 

Dr. Holt nodded and smiled. “Dr. Honerva streamlined this research in hopes of, ultimately, finding a cure for her son. For anyone with an incurable illness, such as Shiro.”

Keith nodded. “It seems like it’s working. I…I’ve seen him wake up and move. And heard him.” 

A chuckle. “Ah, that…yes, undergoing the procedures are not without pain. But, feeling pain is a sign of life.”

“That’s true.” 

“So we are hopeful of the direction we are going in. Not just for Shiro but also for the loved ones we have lost. 

“What about you?” Dr. Holt asked. “Have you lost a loved one?” 

Keith hesitated. His memory flashed back to that barren road, the gnarled tree, and—

He bit his lower lip, debating if he should speak the word. Some secrets were best left buried and hidden, but Dr. Holt was being very open with him about their research and Shiro. 

Swallowing thickly, Keith glimpsed up at him and said, “An unborn child.” 

Dr. Holt nodded in grave understanding. “Ah. I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do about that. Apologies to your…girlfriend? Wife?” 

Keith hung his head, cringing but forced on a little smile. “It’s fine.” A thought came to him, and he seized to ask this question before Dr. Holt left the room or excused Keith for the day. 

“You said Dr. Honerva streamlined the research, but what inspired you to join her?” He was careful in placing in his question, as Dr. Holt didn’t know what Keith knew about him. 

Dr. Holt sighed. “Well, you know what I said about losing a loved one? It was my old friend named Oscar Ozar. He died of an illness just like Shiro’s. After his passing, I vowed to find any means to cure terminal illnesses. This is perhaps the most unorthodox means one may find, but our research’s results thus far has been optimistic!” 

Keith nodded and mirrored Dr. Holt’s smile, but the warmth from before had dissipated. Here, clear as day, was a lie. Lieutenant Oscar Ozar didn’t die of an illness. Keith had the Internet files. He could go back and check if he didn’t trust his memory, but he knew what he had read. 

Ozar didn’t die of a disease. He died from a plane crash. And Dr. Holt was lying right to Keith’s face.


	5. Monster of the Week

Why did Dr. Holt lie to him? The thought spun around and around in Keith’s head ever since he left work that afternoon, and it haunted him throughout the rest of the weekend. He could scarcely focus on his studies. He double checked all of his files on Dr. Holt, and sure enough, he hadn’t misread anything. Lieutenant Oscar Ozar had died from a plane crash. 

Perhaps the crash was due to an illness? No, there was no mention of that anywhere in the article, and Ozar wasn’t the only man killed in the crash. The captain pilot—a freaking admiral—the co-pilot Lieutenant Ozar, the crew, and all of the passengers had been wiped out in one go. 

That little nugget of dishonesty left cracks in the trust that Keith had only just begun to build between himself and Dr. Holt. What more of his words were also lies? What of Dr. Honerva’s research? What of her purpose for doing it? What about that man, Shiro? Did he agree to undergo this? 

_…He was selected for our research…_

Shit. That could have meant…shit. 

Keith found himself burning through search engines, trying to find anything he could of Takashi Shirogane or Dr. Honerva or any iota of information about their total body reboot hypothesis or whatever it was.

Nothing. 

He needed to sneak back in there. Needed those files back in his hands. Needed to know everything about Shiro, his own livelihood be damned. 

He couldn’t focus on his studies. He was so gonna bomb this Organic Chemistry test. 

The nights haunted him with visions of long barren roads, the night sky pitch black, strangely devoid of stars. Trees bent over, as if ready to curl their fingers into the car that sped by. Within, Keith argued with the driver. He tugged on his strong arms; the long, blond bangs obscured his face, but Keith didn’t have to see his eyes to know he was pissed. He begged and begged him, but no matter how much he talked, Keith knew nothing he said would get his boyfriend to believe him. 

The car came to a halting skid—the blackened tree with the gnarled bark and branches—the screaming, the dirt falling over him—Roy, _Roy_, it’s your child!—

Keith woke up tearing at his pillows and screaming out Roy’s name.

⁂

It seemed Dr. Holt had discussed with Dr. Honerva about Keith being in the lab, for Keith was welcome to go in and out of the lab as he pleased as early as Monday afternoon. He didn’t wish to overstay his welcome, especially not with Dr. Honerva’s gaze clearly on his back. No doubt he had to get her clearance first before she would fully deem him an acceptable presence in the secret lab.

He’d pop in to bring in lab results or to request his next task, though his mind often strayed to the cabinet just a few feet away. He couldn’t risk just strolling in and reading more about Shiro while Drs. Holt and Honerva were in the room. 

And speaking of Shiro…Keith wondered what exactly they were doing to keep him alive. Keith was no doctor, but Shiro’s environment was nothing like the hospital room Keith awoke in shortly after the incident: no IVs, or heart monitors, nor leg compressors. Not even a blanket to keep him warm. But he was strapped to a table, and his body was full of stitches as though he had undergone surgery. 

Was he at least given pain medications for the surgery? Keith suspected he knew the answer to that already. 

Keith kept out of the room most times. Shiro’s cries of pain still burrowed into his very soul. Once or twice he poked his head in, curiosity getting the better of him. Once, he could only see the white of Dr. Honerva’s coat, her back turned to him. The pungent smell of blood, an open wound, met his nose. Blood splattered onto the ground—what sort of fucking surgery was this?! 

Shiro grit his teeth, glaring down at Dr. Honerva with deep loathing before his gaze took note of Keith. 

Another time, it was just Dr. Holt, and Shiro wasn’t cut up. But he was frowning, studying Dr. Holt with not a lick of trust in his bottomless eyes. Not the look of a man who would have agreed to be “rebooted” back to life. 

“Try not to fight this off next time, Shiro,” Dr. Holt said before plunging a syringe into his remaining arm. Immediately, Shiro struggled against his hold and groaned in pain before noticing Keith was there. His eyes widened, and Keith took a step back, suddenly worried the—_monster_—was about to break free from his holds and lunge at him. 

“Ah, Keith!” Dr. Holt smiled. “Got the reports?” 

Keith nodded and handed them over, pointedly ignoring Shiro’s gaze. Dr. Holt led him across the room. The computer faced Shiro’s bed. Sliding into the swivel stool, Dr. Holt booted up the computer while Keith stood behind him. The black screen burst white, but not before he caught a reflection of the happenings behind them. 

“He’s watching me,” Keith mumbled under his breath.

“Pardon?” 

“Nothing,” Keith said and crouched over Dr. Holt’s shoulder. He watched as Dr. Holt pored through his most recent set of data. “It looks like he’s been stitched up, like he’s had surgery.” 

“That’s not entirely wrong,” Dr. Holt chuckled. 

“I know it’s not my business,” Keith said, remembering what he had seen the day before with Dr. Honerva in there. “Does Shiro require surgeries as part of the process?”

“Of course. Not everything gets booted back perfectly, you know.” 

“Ah, of course.” But that would only make the need for IVs, antibiotics—heck, should Keith even be allowed in here without proper vaccinations and clothing—even more vital. But none of that existed here. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had recalled them bringing in food for Shiro. 

As Dr. Holt grew quiet, lost in analyzing Keith’s data, Keith turned back and met Shiro’s gaze. The man was wide awake, and although he had definitely picked up on his name being mentioned and was staring at Keith, he didn’t speak a single word. But in his gaze was so much sorrow. Keith offered him an apologetic smile before looking away.

⁂

It was a Saturday, and Drs. Holt and Honerva were holding another meeting. Keith had become more attuned with the pattern of their schedule: experiments and surgeries throughout the week, and meetings on Saturday mornings. He was even noticing his lab work was less intensive. He handled blood less often. The work he did was more or less simply to analyze anything they had found during the week.

It also meant this was the only day when the two scientists weren’t in the experimentation room. Keith could finally slip in and peer through the files again. 

His curiosity and worry hadn’t abated during the week. If anything, they had only gotten worse, and it was one tiny mercy that a major chemistry exam on Friday had kept his mind focused on something else, something productive, or surely he would have driven himself mad with theories. 

He snuck into the lab after finishing his lab work early, so he could at least give the story of being done as his excuse of hanging out in the lab. Shiro was asleep by the time Keith snuck in, and Keith couldn’t help a sympathetic smile. 

_They finally got you resting, buddy_, he found himself thinking. He set the papers down on Dr. Holt’s computer station and made for the drawer. Gingerly he cracked it open, rolled it out, and slipped the manilla folder out. 

_I should sit down_, he thought. _I’ll look less suspicious._

The only other chair in the room was the swivel stool at Dr. Holt’s station. Keith turned towards it, and that was when he noticed Shiro’s eyes on him. 

Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself onto the stool and pretended he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He wasn’t going to hurt Shiro or anything. He just wanted to know more. That’s all.

He flipped to the first file. 

“I d—died on De—December the f-f-f-fourteenth of last year,” a voice spoke, croaked and hoarse. 

Keith froze. Did Shiro just…?

“My name is Takashi Sh…Shirogane.” He cleared his throat again. “My friends called me Shiro. Wha—what is y-y-your name?” 

“Keith. Keith Koh. I’m a lab assistant here. I work in the chemistry lab next door. I run data on samples Drs. Holt and Honerva bring to me. I…hear you in here sometimes.” 

Shiro nodded, appreciating the little bit of information. “I died because I was sick.” 

Keith nodded slowly. “You were chosen to be brought back. How were you made aware of this program?” 

“I never asked to be brought back, Keith.” 

A chill ran down Keith’s spine. “Oh?”

But Shiro just motioned somewhere with his chin. “My heart and lungs came from a man named Sven Holgersson. He died from a skiing accident. He was from Norway. He never asked to be brought back either. His organs were in far better condition than my own. 

“Ryou Ryūsei was a New Age hippie. He took his life when his depression took a turn for the worse, but his liver is now in me. Holt and Honerva were grateful he hadn’t at least died by overdose. 

“Kuro was the worst. He killed many people, and he eventually killed himself so he wouldn’t face charges. But they liked the condition of his pancreas and kidneys. Mine had failed.

“Jiro Kurogane was the sweetest. He always wanted to be the paladin when he played Dungeons and Dragons with his friends. And then something warped his mind and…still don’t know what killed him. Parts of his muscles were used. So many of mine still don’t function. Honerva hope this bionic arm can eventually help me, because Jiro too lost his right arm. 

“Admiral James Hawkins—”

“You know so much of these men,” Keith said. He quickly flipped through the files, trying to catch up as Shiro rattled off the tidbits of trivia on each man. All checked out. 

“I have to,” Shiro said. “They are all part of me now. I am each of these men.” 

The hair on Keith’s arms rose as he fell on another file. Another Takashi Shirogane, with a tiny “1” next to his name, but his attention was stolen by the photograph—that face! 

He glanced up at Shiro, who seemed to read Keith’s thoughts. 

“A clone,” he said. “Dr. Honerva managed it successfully just once. Needed it for some coronaries.” 

Keith swallowed thickly. “I…I remembered seeing him in the halls of my college a couple times. I was wondering why you looked a little familiar. Did he…know?” 

“That he was made to be disposed? Probably not.” 

Keith sucked in a shaky breath. _Made to be disposed._ What a horrific existence. He turned to the final file: Admiral James Hawkins. Died in 1089, plane crash, pilot error—

“Admiral James Hawkins,” Keith read aloud. 

“It was surprising they even managed to find anything of use for him,” Shiro said with a little chuckle. “He died so long ago, but I guess Dr. Holt was feeling nostalgic. He wanted to somehow preserve his friend. But there was nothing left of First Officer Oscar Ozar, so he went digging up the admiral’s grave instead. Exchanged a pinkie bone for him.” Shiro’s laugh came out dark and hollow, dripping with bitterness. “My last remaining pinkie didn’t have to be taken out.” 

“I…I’m sorry,” Keith managed in a tight voice. He glanced back down at the files before him.

“Why do you work for them?” Shiro asked. “What made you come work here?” 

“Saw an ad at Uni.” 

“That’s not what I’m asking. If you’re a university student and picking up a job, then that means you needed the money for something.” 

Keith’s hand froze over the files. Was Shiro sent to spy on him for Drs. Holt and Honerva? That thought was almost hilarious—from the way they were treating Shiro, respecting him enough to play spy was the last thing they would ever do. And what could he possibly bargain for in exchange for spying on Keith? His freedom? His _life?_ Given the lack of basic surgical hygiene, it was clear how much care they gave him here—but Keith pushed the thought away, mentally chastising himself. Thinking so coldly of Shiro just wasn’t right. 

“It’s a long story,” Keith said, his eyes not properly parsing the words on the file on Admiral James Hawkins. What was he doing, talking to a monster? 

Shiro scoffed. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“You’re curious about my past?” Keith flipped a page. “I’m not comfortable sharing my story with anyone. I’m sorry.” He glanced up and straightened his back. “Some things are just…you know? I never want to revisit some things from my past.” 

“I think you’d find that someone like myself would perfectly understand.”

Keith cringed. 

“So…First Officer Ozar. He didn’t die of disease after all. That’s what Dr. Holt told me.” 

“Do not trust that man’s words.” 

“Yeah,” Keith chuckled. “I figured as much. I did some of my own research on him not too long ago. There was a whole article on how they were once friends, and how he had come to Ozar’s old place when he realized why he hadn’t heard from him for months, and that was how Dr. Holt ended up meeting his now wife.” 

Was that a smart move? It wasn’t like the information on Dr. Holt was secret. Anyone could look it up. He watched Shiro closely for his reaction. 

“No. Ozar was on the plane with Admiral James Hawkins. He was in perfect health, as far as I knew.” 

Keith nodded. 

“I was never asked if I wanted to be reanimated or…what did Dr. Holt call it sometimes?” 

“A full body reboot,” Keith offered. 

“Ah…that,” Shiro chuckled. “I was abandoned by my own lover, someone who would have become my fiancé. I was falling ill—complications from my illness. I had a boyfriend named Adam. He had waxed poetic about how he would be there for me through thick and thin. He always promised engagement rings. We were so close. 

“We had other problems. I stubbornly wanted to keep studying and pursuing my career. I loved space and wanted to explore the stars. He kept trying to convince me it wouldn’t be possible because of my illness. I didn’t listen, and he threatened to leave me. When I got sicker and failed my physicals, I gave up. I needed him. And for some time, he remained beside me. Made sure I was well taken care of.

“But when I got too sick, when I was dying and needed Adam beside me more than ever, he left. Got sick of waiting on me, got tired of being held back because of me, and left. Didn’t even bother to contact my family and let them know I was dying. I was too weak to call them myself. And so in the end I died alone.” 

In all the time Shiro spoke, not an ounce of bitterness dripped from his tone as he thought back to his old life. There was slight amusement more than anything, as if the thought of being ghosted by the man who had proclaimed to be by his side forever only to leave him for dead without even family, only to end up back alive in this strange lab, was somehow all mildly hilarious. 

“I’m sorry,” Keith said. “You family never knew?” 

“I’m sure they did in the end,” Shiro said. “Someone had to have buried me.” 

Keith flinched, trying not to think too hard on that. “You don’t remember that part, I’m guessing.” 

Shiro laughed lightly. “No, of course not. Never been put under?” 

Keith shuddered, his entire body contorting horribly. _“WHAT?!”_

Shiro studied him with a frown. “Have you ever been given anesthesia? You’re out. Completely unaware of everything. You can’t even pinpoint when you were put under and when you awake again in the recovery ward. That was my experience. Death was just like being put under before surgery—it happened like a blink of an eye—I felt nothing, no pain, no memory, no fear—and suddenly, I was here.” 

Keith’s hands shook, but he tried to keep himself steady under Shiro’s steady gaze. He couldn’t imagine how easy it was for Shiro, who had suffered so much before his death; it wasn’t the same with Keith—no, he had suffered too, just differently, but that cold earth had swallowed him as he was conscious and and and—Roy, Roy, _ROY!_

“Ever since coming back, ever since I learned what they were doing to me, I vowed to learn as much as I could of the other men they were hurting,” Shiro went on. “It was the only way I knew to honor my…other selves. Should I ever make it out of here, I want the world to know the stories of my kin.” 

Keith nodded, eyes wide and watery. He placed the folder on the computer station and lifted himself on shaky feet. He couldn’t breathe. He had to get out of here. The ground was shaking, the soil damp and ready to suck in his feet. A large hand firmly gripped his wrist, and he was being dragged to that awful cold place—

“Keith?” 

“Sorry, I have to go.”

“Is your break over?” 

“Um…” Keith checked his watch quickly and the truth spilled from him before he could think of a better excuse. “No, but—”

“Will you not stay a while? Have I frightened you?” 

Now at the door, Keith turned back and laughed lightly. “After what _I’ve_ been through? Nah.” 

Shiro shifted his head to one side, trying to discern Keith’s words. “What do you mean by that?” 

“It’s really a long story.” 

“Then tell me. You still have time.” 

He did have time. And Shiro had poured out his own story to Keith, virtually a stranger to him. Sighing, he quickly checked to make sure neither Dr. Holt nor Dr. Honerva were around before settling back on the stool. He inched closer and observed Shiro’s face. Up close, he could see the incisions, the painful stitches (why didn’t they heal?), the marks of horror the two scientists had inflicted on a man who should have been left to rest in peace. 

But despite all the visible marks of horror on his own face, Shiro was watching Keith with concern, ready to receive his own story of trauma and pain. And that only made the trepidation worst. 

“Okay…” Keith drew in a deep, deep breath to steady himself. 

_Don’t cry_, he warned himself. Too late. The first of the tears were already forming. The damn lab’s coldness didn’t help. 

“You’re the first person I’m going to tell this to,” Keith said in a low voice. “Everything. The first person in this city who will know…everything…about me and what happened in my old school. I hope you don’t think badly of me after this.” 

“Nothing will, Keith,” Shiro assured him in such a genuinely kind voice that Keith almost shattered right there. 

He took another deep, shuddering breath; tugged a strand of hair behind his ear, and began his tale.


	6. Many Months Ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some content warnings and notes for this chapter as a heads up for anyone who needs it: 
> 
> \- transphobia and misgendering. Chapter will also mention top surgery.  
\- domestic violence  


Roy Fokker was an ace pilot, local celebrity, and one of the hottest flight instructors—one of the hottest people ever—at the University of Rantucky in Rantucky, Illinois, a small town surrounded by vast regions of forests and hills. It was the northernmost town of Illinois, some sixty miles north of Chiberia and Celestial City. 

Keith wasn’t born in Rantucky, but in another small village to the southwest, living a quiet but secluded life with his mother and father. From an early age he took an interest in the sciences, particularly chemistry, as the lab work allowed him to be alone for hours at a time. He was never one for socializing, though loneliness gripped him from time to time. 

As University of Rantucky was best known for its prestige chemistry program, among other programs, Keith’s parents had encouraged him to apply for scholarships, and so getting in with high grades and good recommendation, Keith was on his way to a successful future. 

And then there was Instructor Roy Fokker. Although he didn't teach any class Keith was in, Keith spotted Roy several times in the halls or in the cafeteria, and he would admire him from afar. 

“What are you staring at, lone boy?” James Griffin loudly taunted. “Just take a picture, weirdo!” 

James Griffin was a student in the flight school at Rantucky, and Keith never figured out what it was that Griffin felt so threatened by. Keith was in the Chemistry program. He had nothing to do with the flight school, would never get anywhere close to Instructor Fokker, would never be competition to Griffin. In any case, Keith kept his distance. Keith didn’t have friends at Rantucky—just acquaintances at the chemistry program: mainly, Miriya and Max Sterling—and so he kept his business to himself. But Griffin somehow knew he had feelings for Instructor Fokker, and it was best to leave other matters of his personal business secret, matters which he knew Griffin could use as ammo against him. 

And so Keith evaded Griffin’s harassment for most of the year and was successful. Jame’s rue was kept to jealousy and it never went anywhere past that. Things were looking good. 

What Keith did not expect was Instructor Fokker—no, Roy—to gain an interest in Keith. 

The man would smile at him in the halls, each time taking Keith unawares, and he’d have to calm his pounding heart. A couple times Keith would feel a heavy hand pound his back and jolt around, ready to fight whoever it was encroaching on his personal space, before realizing it was Instructor Fokker. 

“Everything good, my man?” he said with that hollow point smile. 

Keith swallowed thickly and smiled awkwardly back. By the time Roy left, Keith noticed Griffin burning a hole through his skull. 

The last time it happened was at the cafeteria. Keith had been sitting alone when Roy approached him.

_Just trying to check up on you, probably_, Keith thought. _You must be the only student eating alone_. He noticed James’s cold state and quickly looked down only to notice a slip of paper next to his fries; a phone number and address were scribbled across. 

Delighted, Keith kept the slip of paper out of sight, making certain neither Griffin nor any of his friends saw that Kieth had something in his hands. In the first chance he got Keith put the number and address in his phone, triple checked each digit, then discarded the slip of paper after smearing it with ketchup. Even if someone were to dig around they would hopefully mistake the paper for a piece of food wrapper. 

It was almost worth receiving a glare from Griffin that afternoon, knowing something Griffin didn’t. With shaky hands, Keith sent the first text, just a simple “Hi, you left me your number and address,” and waited, hoping this wasn’t some prank. He turned his phone’s setting to vibrate, as not to draw attention to himself. 

It was during his final class for the day, a core class, when Roy responded: 

`That was me! Call me Roy. Been noticing a very handsome man in the halls! How are you? What is your name?`

Heart pounding, Keith scrambled for a reply back. 

`Are you in class right now, Keith? Is this a bad time?`

`No, not really. It’s just Literature. We’re going over a poem.`

`A love poem? I know many I can share with you. ♥ `

Keith almost screamed. Was this going too fast? He didn’t care. He loved the thrill of it, sitting in the back, one half of his attention in class, going over “The Lake Isle of Innisfree” and the other half conversing with Roy. 

The back-and-forth texting went on for the rest of the week until, on Friday afternoon, Roy told Keith he was lonely. Keith said he would go to the address right after class without thinking. It wasn’t until after Keith got off the bus that trepidation choked him. In all the times they had spoken, Keith hadn’t spoken to Roy about one little matter concerning himself… 

Roy’s cabin was in the middle of the woods, quiet and almost eerie. No lights shone in the surrounding homes. 

Roy welcomed him inside. Welcomed him with an intense kiss that shouldn’t have happened this soon, and certainly took Keith by surprise. His intuition told him to back away, startled by the way Roy gripped his arms possessively, but his head swooned at the way Roy claimed him, and the thought of Griffin’s face once he learned that Keith had been in Roy’s cabin…

He went inside. Enjoyed the meal Roy had made for him. Fell deeper into lust by the minute. The matter of his identity was the only thing that kept him from shoving Roy against the wall and getting carried away, giving in to youthful lust. 

Then Roy led him to his bedroom, a luxurious wide room with a very inviting bed, and Keith’s entire body quivered. 

“Roy…there’s something you need to know,” Keith gasped as Roy helped him out of his clothing. 

Roy tugged down his underwear, saw with his own eyes, and met Keith’s gaze. A hungry glint crossed his eyes, and Keith gasped in mixed surprise and passion as he felt Roy’s fingers claim him. 

“You’re beautiful.” 

The rest of that night passed in a blur. Roy was rough; that’s all Keith could recall. Rough and fast. And heavy, his muscular frame nearly smothering him. And definitely passionate. He had Keith pinned to the bed. Keith must have earned a few bruises. He couldn’t recall now. The flurry of passion and fear ran everything together. Having lost all sense of danger, putting all trust into the flight instructor’s hands, Keith threw all caution to the wind and was thus unaware of the camera recording every moment of their intimate encounter. He wouldn’t become aware of this until much later. 

What Keith did notice later on, however, was a photograph. 

“Who’s this?” Keith asked as he lifted up the small picture frame from the bedside table. He had the covers over himself, still panting slightly after the ordeal with Roy. The young man in the picture had a striking resemblance to Keith, except he was dressed in a pilot’s uniform. 

“Rick Hunter,” Roy answered. “My little brother. Not _mine_, but I loved him all the same. His father adopted me after my own old man croaked.” 

“Ah. He looks a bit like me…” 

The corner of Roy’s lips curled. 

It should have been another red flag, another alarm setting off in the back of his mind. He was told to keep their relationship secret, which Keith was eager to do (the less Griffin knew, the better), although he couldn’t help but walk with an air of arrogance around the prick at uni. 

In the months that followed, Roy spoke lovingly about Rick as he took Keith during their weekends. He had Keith wear Rick’s old clothes, took pictures of him with them on, some while in various stages of undress, some while posed in rather compromising positions. 

But Keith willingly complied. The man was deeply infatuated with him, deeply obsessed, and while Keith had not sought the instructor for any sort of financial gain, he was certainly reaping the monetary benefits. 

Roy wanted to pay for Keith’s top surgery. The matter of bilateral mastectomy was certainly on the list of things Keith wanted to approach at some point in his life, but this soon? However, he wasn’t certain if he would have the funds, if he would chicken out last minute. But if his chest, in their current state, were somehow distracting to Roy...

He agreed to the surgery, and the next time he had come home to his family for vacation in Lilac Village—a quaint little village northwest of Chiberia—he was in the midst of recovery and avoided plenty of questions from his mother’s stern, eagle-like gaze and his father’s concerned eyes. 

“If you need us to tackle anyone,” Heath said and motioned towards the axe he carried as a firefighter. “You know who to go to.” 

Keith scoffed. “I can handle anyone three times my size, Pops.”

*

When Keith showed his new chest to Roy, his lover narrowed his eyes before nodding approvingly, then threw Rick’s old uniform at Keith. Keith pouted.

He had the surgery alone. Hadn’t even told his family as to avoid any questions of how he had afforded it. Waking up afterwards to no one in the room had hurt. While he preferred his solitude, he hated being alone, and in that moment, not having Roy by his side or holding his hand, offering him support, had made him sad. He wished Roy could have at least given him more acknowledgement than just giving him more of Rick’s clothes to wear. 

_You’re being ridiculous_, Keith told himself as he put on Rick’s uniform. _Roy must have been busy._

*

Roy was pissed at him.

At that moment, Keith didn’t care. His pain was getting worse. He vomited nearly every day for the past two weeks, had an appetite that ranged from null to bottomless, felt off for days on end where he couldn’t focus on studying to the point of just accepting defeat on this stupid exam. 

Keith phoned Roy and begged for him to take him to a doctor in the nearest city. 

“There’s a nurse’s office on campus!” Roy hissed. 

Keith cringed. Gone were the loving words and recited poetry that Roy used to send him during Literature classes. Keith understood. It was later in the semester. Things got stressful for everyone. 

“I know,” Keith moaned. “But you know why I can’t go in there. I can’t let anyone else know.” 

“_Fucking Christ!_ Get ready in five!” 

“I’m sorry, Roy.” Swallowing thickly, Keith dragged himself out of bed. He texted Miriya and Max Sterling, a couple of his classmates who were also in the chemistry program. After requesting for them to gather up notes for him in their classes, and thanking them, he got ready.

*

Keith could almost laugh. And cry.

So _this_ was the reason for all of his symptoms? He should have noticed them—it wasn’t like they ever used protection—but he hadn’t thought to connect the dots. 

Sitting in the car’s passenger side as Roy drove down the long, long winding road back home that night, curtained by long rows of tall trees, Keith broke the news. 

“I’m pregnant,” he said. 

“Eh?” Roy’s eyebrows knitted in confusion, visible even under his thick bangs. 

“It’s your kid, of course,” Keith laughed and leaned against the window. “Turns out I’ve been pregnant for some time—it must have happened right after my surgery—they do pregnancy tests on you before surgery, you know? I mean, _you_ don’t have to worry about that, hahaha! But yeah, I’m four months in. Crazy, isn’t it? I only began to have symptoms _now_. Haven’t really begun to show, but I’m sure that’ll change fast. Shit…shouldn’t I be taking folic acid? It’s a good thing Mom’s taught me to have a small salad with every meal. I hope that’s enough! 

“Didn’t think this would happen at all, but guess everything happens for a reason. I don’t know how I’ll manage with a kid and my studies, but I’ll think of a way. Might have to break the news to my parents—they don’t know we’re together, of course. If you want us to continue keeping this secret, I can tell them I got knocked up during a party.” 

He laughed again, knowing both Heath and Krolia Koh would never believe that their son attended a social gathering. 

“I’m crap at thinking up names—Oh! I hadn’t even asked about the sex of the baby. Doesn’t even matter in the end. We can think of a unisex name in the meantime.”

Keith looked up at Roy with a fond smile. “Or if you’d like, if they’re a boy we can name him Rick.”

The car screeched to a halt. Keith threw out his arms, breaking the impact as he went flying towards the dashboard. Recovering quickly, he glanced up at Roy, meeting the cold glare in his eyes. He had never seen that look in him before, and suddenly, surrounded by these trees, no residential areas or businesses for miles, fear trickled into his bones. 

“Roy?” 

“Abort it,” Roy seethed. 

“What?” 

“Abort it!” Roy demanded louder. “I will not have someone walking around with my brat where Claudia can see it!” 

“Claudia?” Keith furrowed his brows. “Who’s Claudia?” 

Growling Roy pounded against the steering wheel. “My wife, idiot!” 

All color drained from Keith’s face. “W-wife? You never said—!”

“You never asked!” 

The words froze in Keith’s throat. How the hell—Roy was the one who initiated everything! _He_ was the one to toss in his phone number and address onto Keith’s lunch, didn’t he? 

“I—” The thoughts burned through Keith’s mind. Roy set his car back into gear, and they drove off, the speed picking up by the moment. 

_How dare he, how dare he, how-dare-he—_

“You were the one to give me your number and address! You were the one to first come on to me!” 

“You didn’t have to text me in the first place.” 

“I didn’t know! I knew nothing about you!” 

“All the reason you should have asked, slut!” 

Gasping, Keith watched helplessly as they just missed a tree. The car shook through the winding barren road. 

“Roy?” Keith stammered. “Roy!” 

There was an odd, mad gleam in his eyes that Keith didn’t like one bit. They were going too fast—was Roy trying to kill him?! 

“Roy! I’ll abort the baby! I’ll never speak any of this! Just—let us calm down, please! I know you’re upset! I understand now why you wanted me to keep our relationship a secret! I was stupid not to ask you before, and I’m sorry! Just…please, slow down! I’ll do anything! I’ll abort! I’ll never speak to you or go back to you again, I promise! Just let us go home in peace, Roy!” 

He hadn’t been aware how panicked he was, how much he was screaming, until Roy turned around and gripped him around his neck and spat in his face. “Shut up! Shut up or I swear I will tear you to shreds!” 

“ROY!” 

The car halted again, this time missing hitting a tree head-on by mere inches. Grinning horribly, Roy backed away and drove off a few more, far more slowly, eerily, in the dark, the car’s headlights showing the barren land until it came upon a tall blackened gnarled tree. 

The car stopped again. Roy set it into park. 

“I know how to end this,” he said under his breath, panting. 

Panicked, Keith hiccuped. His mother and father had taught him self-defense, and he was ready for Roy. He kicked, went for the jugular, the jaws, but one wrong move, shaky as he was, and Roy gripped him tight, he plummeted Keith to the ground: kicking him in the legs until Keith heard a snap, and stepping on his hands. 

Even with fingers searing with agony, Keith scrambled for his phone, but it slipped from his hand and Roy stomped on it with his foot. He dragged him by the roots of his hair and Keith screamed at the top of his lungs, hoping someone would hear him, however slim the chance.

Roy went to fetch something from the backseat of the car, and Keith glanced up, noticing his phone a few feet away. He dragged himself towards it, but barely crossed an inch when Roy returned, wielding a shovel. Keith’s eyes widened. 

“Wha—how—where’d you—”

Roy smirked. “I do plenty of other activities you have no idea about, little cunt.” 

He swung the shovel over his head, and the impact struck Keith squarely in the abdomen, ripping out a terrible, blood-curdling scream from Keith. 

_“Roy, no! It’s your baby! STOP!”_

Again and again he struck him, till pain and light exploded before Keith’s eyes. Something hot and wet seeped into his jeans. His stomach burned with pain, a severe cramping that could only be described as the worst menstrual pain in his life, multiplied by a thousand. He could scarcely scream, praying someone had heard him earlier. 

Through the pain he barely heard Roy as he dug the grave. 

It wasn’t until Roy had returned, dragging Keith by the hair again and throwing him unceremoniously into the pit, that Keith found his voice again. He screamed for Roy, screamed and screamed as dirt filled up the steep grave, surrounding him, burying him until—

He didn’t know how much time had passed or when Roy had left. Darkness and pressure surrounded him. Nothing that his parents taught him had prepared him for being buried alive, and especially not buried alive while sporting multiple physical injuries and in the midst of a miscarriage. 

But Keith was a fighter. A warrior spirit, his mother had always said. 

Keith wasn’t sure how he had gotten himself out of there. Surely he had to first calm himself. Tried not to think of where he was, how deep he was buried, and how no one lived around here for miles. The process of escaping his grave definitely took time. He was running out of air—he remembered that—but the constant pain had all burned him down to having just one singular thought: _live_. 

Get out of there alive. 

He managed. Somehow, he managed. 

Covered in dirt from head to toe, unable to walk, and bleeding profusely from the violent miscarriage, Keith crawled back towards the road. He found his phone: smashed up, but just operational enough for him to call paramedics. As he struggled to get the words out to the operator, his eyes glazed over to the tall gnarled tree, its long fingers seemingly reaching back to grab him…

When Keith regained consciousness, he was being wheeled to the emergency room. He begged them to do something for his miscarriage, taking them by surprise. Embarrassed and frustrated, he had to endure as medical staff poorly-trained in the care of trans patients regularly misgendered him or hesitated to call him Keith. The first few hours were maddening—humiliating on top of all the pain—and relief only began when a doctor arrived who was far better trained. 

When Keith awoke again in his room, he was surrounded by three investigators and his parents. The investigators spoke at length with Keith about his experience. Shame filled him as Keith retold his story with his parents nearby, but the three investigators were understanding, and there was something about Allura in particular that made Keith feel at ease. He trusted them. And for that reason, he wanted charges pressed against Roy: charges he later was informed he couldn’t press as there were no longer any evidence of his pregnancy in either the doctor’s office nor the hospital. Not even the emergency room had any files on Keith having ever been there, a detail that raised every hair on end. 

But that would happen months later. For now, Keith was just glad to have his parents’ love and support and the alliance of three older and trained officers who would promise to catch Roy for murdering their unborn child and attempting to kill Keith. 

The most immediate damning event happened right as Keith returned to school, only to find videos of his and Roy’s intimacy had gone viral across campus. Shared on every phone, in the AV room, on laptops in the cafeteria—he heard students sniggering, gasping, tossing up rude comments about Keith and his body—slurs and wildly ignorant comments flung around haphazardly. 

“What a homewrecker!” 

“_He’s_ a _she?!_”

“No shame!” 

These were the mildest comments Keith heard. 

But what struck Keith the most was the video itself: how did it come into being? Was Roy filming them all this time? Why didn’t he tell Keith? Wasn’t this also something he could use against him? How did it end up here? 

So many eyes on him. They all knew it was him. 

Feeling as though the ground beneath him had opened up, Keith ran, tried to get as far away from everything, from Griffin’s knowing smirk and the pool of alarmed and disgusted students who now thought the most horrible things about him. 

He dropped out of school. Returned to his parents the first chance he got. 

“You shouldn’t give up on your dreams,” Heath said soothingly while Krolia ranted and raved about how she was going to strangle Roy. 

Keith buried his face in his pillow and willed the tears to stay put. “How will I start over?” 

“Go to another school,” Heath offered. “Celestial City University has a chemistry program!” 

It wasn’t as ideal as Rantucky’s, which was a huge campus and had some of the strongest programs, but it would do. And it was closer to home, although Keith would still need to either take public transport or rent an apartment. 

This time, Keith paid for everything out of pocket, so ashamed of everything he had put his family through. He paid off all of his medical expenses, and what remained went to the school. He rented an apartment, and assured his parents he would be okay being alone again. 

But as his bank began to run dry, Keith refused to ask his parents for money, thinking he owed them that much after all of his mistakes.

⁂

“So when there was an ad to work for a lab here, I was encouraged by some classmates,” Keith said. “I took it because I needed money and didn’t want to bother Mom and Pop.

“And all that happened a few months ago.” 

He ended his story with a shrug, but Shiro kept staring at him with a frown, eyes gleaming with something akin to tears. Shock and hurt etched throughout his face.

“I’m so sorry, Keith,” he finally said. “_I am truly so_, so _sorry!_ Humans can be such monsters.” 

Keith chuckled, noting the irony: Shiro the monster, with his resurrected body patched with other people’s organs, was the most human person he had met in a long time. 

“Guess it’s a matter of perspective,” Keith said with his head hung before laughing lightly. “You’re the first person here to know any of this about me. It doesn’t change the way you see me?”

“Why would it?” Shiro said. “You’ve been hurt, lied to. We both carry scars.”

“I…” Keith laughed again. “I feel…better. It’s nice having someone outside of family and the police know what happened to me. Thank you.” 

Shiro smiled.


	7. Along In Years

Poring through her notes again, Allura gave a heavy sigh. She didn’t wish to give up on her case. She had been there when Keith woke in the hospital emergency room, bruised and terrified. There was no way any of his story was fabricated. She had held the official medical report herself. Where had it all gone? 

Was someone other than Roy the culprit? Always possible, but a majority of crimes were committed by someone the victim knew and trusted. There wasn’t any reason to think Keith was blaming him without reason. 

But, Roy Fokker had an alibi. Unless, his own cousin was an accomplice, but then Allura and her partners had no way of proving that… 

That’s where they always ended up. Without non-circumstantial evidence they couldn’t press charges. Keith Koh’s situation was a loss cause. Without solid evidence of having been seen in the emergency room, without solid evidence of having been pregnant and miscarried due to blunt force trauma, they had no case. Keith Koh may as well have been making up every single word…although Allura herself knew this wasn’t true! 

“Damn it!” she pounded the desk and threw her head down into the crook of her elbow. 

“Allura?” Romelle asked and looked up from her typing. 

“Sorry,” Allura said. “I’m still so baffled by Koh’s case. Someone’s deliberately targeted him, but we have no proof, and—”

“Allura?” Coran popped his head into her office. “Sorry to interrupt, but we have visitors. Two investigators from Norway wish to collaborate with us on a matter they believe has crossed into our city.” 

Romelle and Allura glanced at one another. Norway? Well, if this would provide some distraction from the maddening puzzle over Koh’s case…

Motioning Romelle to stand up and greet their guests, Allura did the same and faced Coran. “Bring them in.”

⁂

“I got them!” Keith said excitedly as he popped into the lab and waved the confection for Shiro to see.

“Snowballs!” Shiro chuckled as Keith set it over his stomach. “And the pink ones too! My father hated the fact I loved the pink ones most.” 

Keith laughed. “Pink is the best color for sweets: soft and inviting. White is too boring. Blue too alien. Green looks like something from the Black Lagoon.” 

“That it does!” Shiro guffawed. “The white ones were okay, but I was always scared I was accidentally biting onto my pet bunny Snowball.” 

At Keith’s expression, that only made Shiro laugh harder. “I was a weird kid!” 

“Apparently!” 

“So…you sure you want me to eat these in front of you?” 

Shiro nodded, looking adorable like a puppy with those eyes. “I used to be able to eat them until I got sick—well, until the illnesses just piled on me! Could no longer have anything with wheat or gluten in them—that at least stopped Dad from complaining—” 

“Right.” Keith vowed that, if would make Shiro feel better, he would eat all the glutinous delights for him. 

“—you’d think they’d at least replace my gut! Surely that can solve my Celiac Disease!” 

Keith snorted loudly and fell into another round of rude laughter. “True!” 

A grunt stifled the commotion as Dr. Honerva scuttled in. She regarded Keith and the Snowballs with a dark glare before resuming her work, checking over Shiro’s vitals. 

“You’re not thinking of feeding him that, are you?” she demanded. 

“It’s not past midnight,” Keith said and hurriedly added, “No, no! Of course not! I bought it because Shiro remembered this from the time when he was a boy!”

“Oh?” Dr. Honerva glared at Shiro, who only offered her the sweetest boyish smile. She shot a syringe into him that immediately wiped the smile off his face. 

“I’ll even offer to eat it in his place!” 

“Don’t make a mess!” she snapped as Keith had just opened the wrapper and little pink coconut flakes littered the floor. Okay, _that_, Keith admitted, was bad on his end. 

“Do you ever feed him?” Keith asked, trying to play it off nonchalantly as Shiro withered in pain just inches in front of him. 

With a snort, Dr. Honerva tapped against the syringe. “This has all the nutrients he needs. We’re not going to test if his gastrointestinal tract functions just yet. Before that time comes, I do not suggest introducing a starved body with pure sugar.” 

“Understood. What about a new gut? His profile said he suffered from Celiac Disease. From what I’ve read, this condition prevents the body from absorbing the proper nutrients without the right diet.”

Dr. Honerva’s nostrils flared and her eyes nearly popped from their sockets. “We don’t have time to meddle with that!” 

She stormed back towards the door, but turned back just as she was about to cross the threshold. 

“In case you didn’t know,” she snarled, “Celiac Disease is an autoimmune disease, a genetic disorder found in variation of the HLA-DQA1 and HLA-DQB1 genes of certain human individuals. The increase of antibodies in these individuals result in inflammation when the individual consumes gluten and thus impact _several_ organs, not only the gut. Merely transplanting the damaged small intestines won’t magically cure him. It would behoove you to do your research before running off your mouth.”

“Thanks,” Keith said in a tight voice, although truth be told he was fascinated by the crash course. 

With that, she slammed the door shut. Keith made sure she was well out of earshot before returning back to Shiro. 

“She’s sure pleasant today.” 

“Must be part of growing old,” Shiro said with a shrug as though the period of pain Dr. Honerva sent him through was nothing. “She is along in years, so I anticipate some bitterness. Although my grandpa wasn’t anything like that.” 

Keith chuckled. He bit into the Snowball and smiled up at Shiro. Weeks had passed in this manner, and he was enjoying this new era. Shiro’s eyes always lit up whenever Keith came inside. Instead of the break room, Keith had made it a habit to spend time with Shiro, and talk until he was either shooed away or his break ended. 

He had gotten to know so much about Shiro. He was a lover of old folk tales and modern horror stories. Shiro knew them all by heart, and perhaps it had something to do with being in the lab for so long, alone and strapped with nothing else to do, that Shiro became something of a masterful storyteller. His memory was sharp as he recited quotes from _Frankenstein_ and _Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde_, but Keith’s favorite was the retelling of Kuchisake-onna. There were so many modern sightings, Shiro insisted, that Keith gave himself the creeps thinking about her. If anything, the thought of this monster kept the thought of Roy and that tree away from his mind. Better the monster you don’t know and can’t hurt you than the monster who did hurt you. 

And, of course, Keith had made sure it didn’t affect his work at the lab; after all, it was samples from Shiro he was examining, so he was even more careful to make certain the data he provided were his top work. For Shiro. 

After all, his work had provided invaluable data. It had led to Drs. Holt and Honerva finally being able to attach the robotic arm to Shiro’s right stump. 

“They didn’t have to find a new corpse for this one!” Shiro had announced happily on the day he received his new arm. Keith applauded, thrilled and a bit exhilarated in realizing that it was all due to his efforts. 

“So…” Keith began, charmed by Shiro’s innocent look as he examined his shiny new arm, “if given the choice, would you rather go back to being dead or live on?” 

Shiro pondered the question as Keith chewed through the sweet delight. It was sweet all right—a bit too sweet. Maybe when they were younger this was heaven, but now older, he didn’t think he could have another. Too bad he couldn’t give Shiro the second Snowball. 

“I’m not sure,” Shiro said. “It wasn’t so bad, being…you know…but then again, I had returned to life so violently that, had there been an afterlife, I scarcely got to enjoy it.” 

Keith paused, his throat suddenly dry. “Did you get to see—I mean, the stories from near death experiences—were they all true?” 

“Ah, _that…_” Shiro smiled sadly. “I’ll leave that as a surprise for you.” 

Keith gave a cry and playfully made to whack him when he checked on the time. “Oh! I have to be back at my lab. Dr. Holt and Honerva will need this back.” 

“Please,” Shiro said. “Don’t let me keep you.” 

Keith nodded, although he didn’t want to leave his friend. “Erm, I’ll have to come back and sweep this. Wait for me, Shiro.” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

With a bittersweet smile, Keith gave him a small wave and left.

⁂

Agatha glowered, spotting the damn coconut flakes on the ground, twinkling pink as if mocking her.

“Let the boy have fun,” Sam said. “This is the brightest I’ve seen him since he came here. He’s obviously been carrying some heavy baggage. And he’s doing well in keeping mum about this.” 

Agatha gave a snort. The boy will eventually crack. He was weak. All humans were. Was this not the reason why they were studying how to piece together a stronger body? 

Her glare turned to the man on the table, this “Shiro” as he preferred to be called. She grabbed for the scalpel, ready to twist it deep in his gut just for having annoyed her. Sam’s eyebrows raised up, but he said nothing, turning, as always, a deaf ear as she brought the scalpel down.

⁂

Shiro was in a far more pensive mood when Keith returned later that evening. The second half of his shift was filled with enduring Shiro’s anguished cries, made far worse because now he knew the man behind all the pain and had a far better understanding of what Drs. Holt and Honerva were doing to him.

He made sure to clean up the entire area first but as quickly as he can so he can spend more time with Shiro right after.

“Everything okay?” Keith asked. “She really was doing a number on you.” 

“Rantucky,” Shiro said. 

“Hmm?”

“You mentioned you went to school at Rantucky,” Shiro said. “I heard the name before.” 

“Were you from there?” 

Shiro shook his head. “I lived in Arizona. Never set foot in Illinois during my first lifetime.” 

“Maybe there was a Rantucky in Arizona? I can check on my phone.” 

Shiro furrowed his eyebrows. “No…I remember hearing it early, early on…when I awoke…I just can’t recall what it was…” 

Keith’s stomach turned cold. As much as he was loathe to ever step back in Rantucky, he would do it for Shiro. 

“Is there something you want me to check out back there?”

“Keith, no…I know what you faced there. I’d never do that to you!” 

“But there’s something about it that rings a bell to you, and it’s bothering you,” Keith pointed out. 

Shiro chewed on his lower lip, looking more and more bothered. “I just…wish I can remember what it was…”

⁂

“So, there it is,” Lance said. “The lab Keith slacked up on taking.”

“Hrm,” Pidge mumbled, uninterested in whoever this Keith was. Coordinating their schedules properly enough so they could all head out to the mysterious lab in Chiberia had taken some time, which only drove Pidge’s impatience through the roof, but there were projects to tend to, a plethora of exams, and sometimes family matters got in the way—“Lucky you,” Pidge had mumbled when Lance had tried to explain—but at last they were here, on a Saturday afternoon, lucky enough to find parking on the street just a few paces away from the creepy-looking lab. 

“And no one knows anything about it?” Pidge asked. 

“Nope,” Hunk said. “Did a few searches on it. Nada. Probably do some animal testing, so, you know, they have to keep that on the down low.” 

Pidge frowned, thinking. Envisioning her house from a bird’s eye view, she retraced the direction her father always now drove. Where he used to drive off to the right, he now went left, and that meant…east, towards the Windy Lake, and thus…here. 

It had to be her father’s new place of work. Not that they could just look for his car. Any employees would have had to park out in the streets like them, and Lance was vehemently against driving at a snail’s pace just to see if they could pick out some old Chrysler LeBaron in a sea of cars. 

“You have any idea how many people are in downtown?” Lance whined when Pidge had suggested it. 

So they were left to just sit and stare at the black-tinted windows of the lab from afar, wondering. 

“You’d think they’d at least say if they test new drugs or chemicals from the sewers or—”

_“KEITH!”_ Lance gasped. 

Pidge whined. “Enough with this Keith!”

“No, you don’t get it!” Lance screamed. “What’s he doing here—HUNK! Get him!” 

“On it!” 

Hunk bolted out of the car. Pidge watched as Hunk bulleted up to the door and snatched a young guy in a white lab coat. Loud commotion reached their ears, and as the two drew closer, Pidge recognized Keith as the guy she had seen in the chemistry halls a few times. 

“Hunk, what’re you—let go—_urgk!_”

Hunk threw the back car door wide open and tossed Keith inside before Pidge could jump out of the way. She yelled and cursed at him as Keith fell on top of her. Apologizing profusely to one another, elbows and fingers getting everywhere, they untangled from one another as Hunk popped back onto the front passenger seat and gasped at Lance, “Run before they get us! Someone’s stepping out right _NOW!!!_” 

“What the hell was that!” Pidge screamed. 

“Yeah, seriously!” Keith shouted, rubbing a sore spot on the back of his head. 

“Hey, man!” Lance yelled. The car needled its way through traffic. “You didn’t say you were the one who got the job!” 

“Not like it’s your business!” 

“Lance, we gotta get outta here fast!” Hunk squealed. “That lady must have seen us!” 

“It’s only the secre—” 

“I’m on it!” Lance screamed and pulled away fast, swerving so fast at a corner that everyone grabbed onto something. 

“What are you doing?!” Keith demanded. “What’s going on?! Why’re you all kidnapping me from my job?” 

Hunk snorted loudly. “Kidnapping!” 

“Keith,” Pidge said sternly. “You work for my dad.” 

Keith regarded her silently before saying. “You’re…one of the Holts!” 

“So…you _do_ work for a Dr. Sam Holt!” 

Keith’s eyes widened.

“Can’t lie to me now,” she said with a triumphant grin. 

“What’s going on?” he asked. Lance pulled over to a strip mall, squeezing them into a nice spot in the parking lot between two large vans. The perfect hideaway. 

“Why are you so interested if I’m working for your dad, umm…” 

“Pidge.” Brief confusion crossed Keith’s face before he nodded. “And I’m interested because I don’t even know where my dad’s been working.” 

“O…kay…”

“Listen, my brother Matt has been missing for over two years! Ever since his disappearance, everything’s changed at home. My dad began working elsewhere. He stopped talking about his old job to us. And Matt? Mom and Dad keep telling me he’s at uni, that he’ll be back for the holidays. Holidays come around _and he’s never back home!_ He used to go to our uni. He would be in your class. Matt Holt. Does it ring a bell?”

⁂

As Pidge spoke, Keith felt the hair on his arms prickle. Not that the name rang a bell, but there was something else…

Loss of a loved one…

Learning how to bring back the dead…

But First Officer Oscar Ozar was completely desolated. There was no way anyone could bring him back. All Dr. Holt could salvage from the wreckage, many years after the fact, was a pinkie bone from the Admiral…

That meant…the identity of the deceased loved one had to be… 

“Oh, my God…” he gasped, loud and pained and so shocked that everyone faced him, fully alert and concerned. 

“What is it, Keith?” Hunk asked quickly. “What did you see in that lab?”

“I…I’m under strict contract,” Keith said. “I can’t say what I’ve seen or done there!” 

“Bullshit!” Pidge snapped. “This could involve my brother!” 

Hunk raised his hand for silence. “Keith…I get it, but you should see yourself, man. You’re pale as a ghost right now. What did you see in there?” 

“Is it Matt?” Pidge hounded him. “He looks sort of like me! Is he in there!” 

“No, no, I haven’t seen anyone who looks like your brother!” Keith said. “But there is—someone—oh, my God—” 

_“WHO?!”_ the other three cried out in unison. 

“Shi—” 

“Oh, my God, who is she?” Lance wailed. “A damsel in distress held hostage in the labs! We must rescue her!” 

“Not _she_! Shiro!” Keith snapped and instantly regretted it. Taking in a deep breath, he added more calmly, “His name is Shiro.” May as well. “Listen, Pidge…with the condition Shiro’s in…I am not optimistic with what condition we’re likely to find Matt in.” 

Hunk cursed under his breath. Lance gave a tiny yelp. Pidge’s lips quivered before rage flared past her eyes and she clenched her fists. 

“I knew it! We have to storm the lab!” she told them. 

“What? No!” Keith said, thinking of Shiro. Never would he allow any harm to come to him. “Listen, I’ve been coming to this place for months—I wasn’t even allowed to see Shiro but it just sorta happened—I never saw Matt, and I was the one stuck sweeping the place clean after shifts.” 

“What do you mean, you weren’t allowed to see Shiro?” Lance asked. “What’s so special about Shiro?” 

“He’s…my friend.” 

That only confused Lance further. 

“Perhaps there’s a room you just haven’t noticed yet?” Hunk suggested. 

“No, no! I know what the whole place looks like!” Keith insisted. Really, he just wanted to avoid any harm coming to Shiro. Dr. Honerva was damn brutal to him earlier today, and the last thing he wanted was to let three college students into a secret lab with him snooping around. 

“It’s not a place that you can just…I dunno, keep a body there!” Keith snapped. “There’s just some labs, the place Shiro’s being kept, a break room, a conference room for your dad and—” Fuck, here comes another confidentiality breech “—his research partner, and the front reception area! That’s it!

“Except…” 

“Except what?” Pidge demanded, sticking her face close to his. 

_Fuck_. Why did he have to open his mouth? 

“Out with it, Keith!” Lance nearly went hysterical, flailing around comically. 

“Shiro mentioned something to me today,” Keith said. “About Rantucky. Listen, he’s not from around here, but he remembered hearing about this place. I used to go to school there. He couldn’t recall where else he had heard the word.” 

Lance and Hunk just shrugged but Pidge rubbed her chin before her eyes widened, gleaming with an idea. “That might be where they’re keeping Matt! Dad might have mentioned it in front of Shiro before!” 

“Rantucky _is_ the school to go to for chemistry and biochemistry studies…” Keith added. 

“Then we’ll go there!” Pidge said and turned to Lance expectedly.

“What? No way!” he said. “You have any idea how far that place is? We’d be bumping against Wisconsin!” 

“Not unless we take the trains,” Hunk said. “I can pull up the times right now!” 

Pidge and Lance voiced their agreement but Keith gawked. 

“Wait, wait! We’re doing this _now_?”

“Of course! The college might not have classes, but the campus should still be open! There’s always something happening at campus. And some students live there!” 

He had nothing to argue with. They had a mission, and it would keep them away from storming the lab. But it also meant Keith was getting dragged right back to the one place he dreaded more than anything in the entire world.


	8. Remember Me For Centuries

The University of Rantucky stood the same as the day Keith had left it. How weird it was to be back, staring at the familiar red brick of the campus buildings. Where he was once alone, he now stood in the middle of the front court flanked by three others—not so much as friends, but acquaintances, at least, and joined together for a common mission. 

“So…where do we start?” Hunk asked. 

Lance whistled. “This place is tucked in the middle of woody nowhere, but it’s _nice_!” 

Keith glanced around himself nervously, hoping he wouldn’t run into Roy here, or any of the students who knew of him during that infamous scandal. The ride up had been nerve-wrecking, to the point where Hunk had to physically reel Keith back before he made good on his threat to punch Lance in the face. He knew the guy was trying to help, but his bursts of hyperactivity did not mesh well with Keith’s own anxiety. 

“So, where to first?” Pidge asked. 

Keith opened his mouth to answer when two people approached from a nearby building, and his throat went instantly dry. 

“Keith?” Max Sterling asked. “Is that you?” 

Oh God. What he would do to run out of here—_now_.

“Hi, Miriya, Max,” Keith said, keeping his voice steady, although he couldn’t meet their gaze. He couldn’t even look at Lance, Hunk, or Pidge. 

“It’s been so long!” Miriya said. “Are you okay? Did you transfer—”

“Somewhere else, please!” Keith hissed and pulled them aside. He glanced back and glared at the other three, warning them not to say a single word. Lance raised his arms as if betrayed at being abandoned like this, but otherwise, they took a seat at some nearby benches and dutifully waited. 

Thankfully, the building Miriya and Max had come from was the library, and the small student’s study and cafeteria adjacent was virtually empty on this Saturday afternoon. They were a married couple, from what Keith recalled of the two, so he wasn’t surprised they were still lingering around campus. Probably had some project they were working on. Lucky them, to have a normal life and normal worries, completely oblivious to the sort of horrors Keith has had to live with.

He led them to a booth a good distance from either the door or the cashier, and that was when he noticed Miriya’s belly. From all the fretting he had only just noticed now. 

“You’re expecting?” he asked. 

She smiled and nodded as one hand instinctively went to her round belly. 

“Wow. Congrats, both of you.” He smiled genuinely although his fingers shook as they folded over the table. He took another look around them, made sure his voice didn’t carry, then leaned in. “Yeah, I transferred. You’ve seen the videos, didn’t you?” 

“Whoever did that was awful,” Miriya said. “It’s no one’s business what you do outside of class.” 

“Is that why you left here?” Max asked. “Are you okay?” 

Keith scoffed. “You don’t know the half of it.” Their concerned looks and the manner of speaking had cut more than any of the taunts and jabs and slurs he had overheard the last time he was here, enough that he felt his body run cold and begin to shake. He had to fight himself not to start crying. How to bring up Roy without getting into a legal entanglement? 

“Listen…I’m not allowed to get into details, but Roy—I mean, Instructor Fokker...he’s not what he claims he is. He hurt me.” 

Miriya frowned and glanced at Max. 

“Do you think he was the one who released the videos?” Max asked. 

Remembering James Griffin’s smug grin, Keith shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe it was him, maybe it wasn’t. Doesn’t matter in the end. What’s happened has happened. But I had to get away from Instructor Fokker for my own wellbeing.” 

The two nodded their heads sympathetically.

“Yeah, I heard…stories similar to yours,” Max said. Keith stared, jaws dropped.

Miriya nodded. “He takes students to his cabin for some…well, ‘fun’. But everything’s all hush-hush. I’d hear rumors, but they flitter by and you never know who Fokker’s been sleeping with.” 

“And he’s married too. What a creep!” 

Keith nearly blew up. “And he’s never been put on probation for this?!” 

“No one’s come forth.” 

But, the video of him…wasn’t that enough proof? Did that not encourage anyone to step forward? 

Then again, considering the lovely warm reception he had gotten…

“Is that why you’re here?” Miriya asked. “Because Instructor Fokker has been on sabbatical leave since…well, not long after you left, actually.” 

Keith’s stomach lurched. Somehow the thought of Roy lurking around, unanchored in Rantucky, creeped him more than anything. What if he followed him to Celestial City? Or had his parents tied up this very moment? 

Keith shivered. “Nah, nothing to do with that. Just wanted to show some of my, um, f-friends around here. Thank you, by the way, for not thinking bad of me.” 

Miriya and Max smiled warmly at him. 

“Anytime, lab partner.”

⁂

“Is Keith there done with his class reunion?” Lance moaned. “We have some murder mystery to solve!”

“Hey! Don’t call it that!” Pidge snapped. 

Keith was making his way back, this time alone, when he froze, eyes wide and full of terror. 

“Hey, man, you o—”

“Keith! Didn’t think you’d show your face after that lovely show you put for us!” The man who showed up from the other side of the court had brown well-kept hair, and he carried himself as though his own father owned the entire university. His cold eyes glared down at Keith. 

“Get the hell out of here, Griffin!” Keith spat. “I know it was you!” 

Lance shared awkward side glances with the others; what the hell did Keith get up to while at this place? Three other people, two ladies and another man, were accompanying James, and the guy leaned over and cupped a hand over his shoulder. 

“Just let it go. It’s not worth it.” 

“Oh, it’s not me who needs to let go, Ryan,” Griffin said with a nasty look on his face. “I still have a file. Want to share with your new friends?” 

“Griffin, I’m warning you!” 

Too late. Lance’s, Hunk’s, Pidge’s, and Keith’s phones all rang. Griffin held up his own phone with a sick, triumphant grin. 

Keith’s pupils turned into tiny dots, pure horror etched on his face. He silently reached for his phone but didn’t pick it up as though too mortified at the thought of confirming what Griffin had sent them. 

“Crazy…how did you bypass our settings?” Pidge marveled out loud. 

“Don’t look at it!” Keith ordered. 

“Enjoy the show!” Griffin told them and blew them all a kiss before going on his way. The only girl who stayed back was a thin lady with very short blonde hair. She regarded them with a deep frown. 

“We won’t look,” Lance promised, “but that’s gonna be kinda hard when we might see a glimpse of it just from picking up our phones, you know?” 

“I know what it is,” the lady said. “I should have deleted from my boyfriend’s phone when I had the chance…I mean, it’s not like it doesn’t exist elsewhere…” A sigh. 

“The fuck!” Lance gasped. “What the hell happened here—you know what? I don’t want to know! This is Keith’s business! We’re just here to—yeah, yeah, keeping shut about _that_. But yeah, this isn’t our business, and unlike your boyfriend, Miss, erm—” 

“Ina.”

“—Ina, we respect Keith!” 

“I can delete it from everyone’s phone,” Ina offered. 

“Please!” Hunk said and handed it over to her. “Your boyfriend’s an asshole.” 

Ina nodded and, without a word, deleted the video file. She showed Keith what she was doing with each person’s phone as proof that none of her actions was foul-play. 

“If you need anything at all,” Ina said as she worked on Keith’s phone last, “let me know.” She gave him a lingering, significant look as if trying to pass another message telepathically. “I feel I cannot make it up to you enough.”

Keith nodded as she handed his phone back. 

Everyone thanked her, but they waited until she was well out of earshot before turning to Keith. 

“Shit, forget the aesthetics,” Lance said. “I get why you’d leave this place.” 

“After we rescue Matt from the big, scary dragon, I say we all gang up and beat this Griffin and the gang,” Hunk said. “Or at least just Griffin.” 

Keith found himself mentally adding Shiro to their little group of warriors and couldn’t help but smile.

⁂

“Huh.” Allura regarded all of the pieces of evidence, set side-by-side with the information she and her partners have been collecting.

“This is…very disturbing,” she said. A large map laid out in the middle of all the evidence, with all of the points of missing graves marked. She traced the locations, then referenced with the intel Romelle had been digging up. 

“If you had not come to us, we would not have a case,” she said. “There’s still the fact that evidence for another client has been erased.”

“Possibly an accomplice,” Thace said. “Although he has not been as public as the other.” 

“Yeah…Mr. Fokker has certainly been…active. And reckless. He’s left a long trail.”

“Such as the tickets to Norway…weird! What would he want there?” Allura furrowed her brow. “And he wasn’t alone. There was a ‘C. Grant’ who went with him on that trip.” 

“Possibly his wife,” Coran said. “Claudia Grant. She kept her maiden name after they married.”

“We will need to clarify on that. Romelle, check if she has an alibi.”

Romelle nodded from her desk.” 

“What else did you learn about Fokker?” 

“He is currently on sabbatical leave,” Coran said. “I’ve checked with the college’s office.” 

“Trying to escape?” 

Allura balled her hands into fists. Either case, Keith Koh wasn’t safe, especially with an unknown accomplice loose, and—her head spun; just how many arrests were they about to make?!

⁂

“Here it is,” Keith said to Pidge. “My old chemistry labs.”

His heart was still pounding heavily from the ordeal. He had almost pulled Pidge aside to reveal everything—there was a reason why she chose the name Pidge; surely that meant she understood where he was coming from!—but every time he wanted to ‘explain himself’ the others shook their heads. 

“You’re not at fault,” Lance would argue. 

“He’s trying to get you to fall apart,” Hunk said. “We respect you, man.” 

Maybe some other time. A better time. Not that his private life was in any way owed to them, but the thought of living freely, the way he did with his family and with Shiro, pleased Keith all the same. 

Pidge peeked into one the labs as if Matt was just sitting there waiting for her. 

“Any idea where they might be keeping him?” she asked. “Doubt he’s ever set foot in here, but good luck to Lance and Hunk trying to hack through the old records.” 

“There’s a supply room,” Keith offered, “but it’s to keep everything we use in the chemistry labs clean. And…um…the biology labs right below have a cadaver room. I learned enough from work to know how to identify bodies with blood samples now, in case they…you know.” 

Pidge stilled. “We…could check that later.” 

They made towards the supply room when they passed a wide display case. Plaques, bulletin reminds, schedules, grades, and news clippings—these were all shared at the wide display case. Keith couldn’t help glancing at it, a little bittersweet smile crossing his face. He used to fantasize about seeing his name on there, etched on a plaque of recognition… 

And that was when his eyes fell on her. 

“Hold it!” 

He grabbed Pidge’s wrist. 

“What’s up?” she asked. 

But Keith was too stunned to reply. The woman in the newspaper clipping didn’t have as many grey hairs as Dr. Honerva, but it was clearly the same woman: the same nose, the same piercing gaze. The date below was stamped with the year 1106, years before Keith had stepped foot into the university. 

Shiro had said he had heard the word Rantucky from before. Maybe it wasn’t Matt that was kept in here. 

How foolish was Keith? University of Rantucky was one of the best colleges for chemistry and biochemistry…

_“Doctor Agatha Zarkon awarded with…”_ Keith didn’t continue. 

“Hey, what’re you doing?” Pidge called out. Keith was already down the hall. 

“Research time!” Keith shouted. “I think I know where Shiro heard the name Rantucky before!”

⁂

They rolled the cold body onto the table. Every time they held a conference session, which the assistant Keith was not allowed in, it was to discuss the matter of how they could revive the son of Dr. Holt.

“Just a little motorcycle accident,” Sam said with a little tut and a shake of the head. He caressed his first child’s cheek, hating how cold and blue it was. “His case is far easier than what we’ve been conducting on our test sample, but everything has to be perfect! Surely he’ll be easier to revive?” 

Agatha scratched her chin. “There is still the manner of the broken neck and the nerves, which with the robotic arm has shown, can be replaceable with bionics. First we must test if this serum will prove successful. Either case, we’re ready to wheel him into the lab and proceed, if you are ready to take the chance.” 

Sam nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” 

They set the body back onto the metal stretcher and wheeled him out. With Merla and the assistant both gone, they could carry on the experiment in peace. Should the test sample react violently to another body in the room, well...they didn’t have plans to keep the being alive for much longer. 

They pushed the metal stretcher into the room and light exploded, blinding them both. 

Their assistant Keith stood, arms folded, standing before the test sample like a guard dog. 

“Hey.”

*

“What are you doing here?” Dr. Honerva hissed.

“Oh, is that Matt Holt?” Keith asked. “Pidge has been wondering where he’s been.” 

“You know my daughter?” Dr. Holt asked. 

“I know everything,” Keith said. “Your son died—took me a while to put the pieces together—but instead of telling Pidge the truth, you and your wife spun on a tale about how he was away for school. You were never learning how to revive tissue to save Ozar—there was nothing left of him! It was Matt you were trying to save! 

“And _you_ were trying to revive both of your husband and child!” 

Keith pointed at Dr. Honerva. “Why did you revert back to your maiden name after your husband died? I read all about you too. Met Zavier Zarkon at the orphanage you both grew up in. Sounded like you were obsessed with him. Took his last name early on. But you couldn’t carry a child to term. The only child you managed to finally carry ended up a stillborn, but you kept the umbilical cord so you can one day do _this_: see if you can revive your own child. Got the rest of your baby stored in a glass jar somewhere? 

“And it wasn’t like you could simply try again with your husband. He died, and now you have him to bring back too! That drove you to quit working at the University of Rantucky, years before I enrolled, all so you can build this, study and uncover the secrets of life and bend it to your will.” 

Keith laughed hollowly as he motioned his arms around the room. “It’s really amazing, what you’ve accomplished, but for what? Have you thought about what you’re doing, the people you’re hurting?!” 

“You’re certainly thorough with your research,” Dr. Honerva chuckled darkly. 

Keith took a step back, brushing against Shiro. He felt his friend’s strong hand against his back, but he ignored him. He didn’t need to be protected. He was protecting Shiro. 

“Dr. Holt, please,” Keith said. “Matt’s death nearly killed your wife from grief. You have to face reality together. Let him go. Tell Pidge the truth.” 

“But, Keith,” Dr. Holt chuckled as though Keith were a small child. “Think of the impact of our research, what this means for the future of the human race! And you’ve been an instrumental part of this, Keith!” 

“Oh yeah? Well, you should have gotten the consent of everyone you’ve used in creating Shiro’s new body—everyone! Plenty would have been interested to have been part of this, but instead you went around, digging up graves and working in secret. And I have no pride in what I’ve done! I should have been told what I was getting into!” 

“The latter I do agree with,” Dr. Honerva snarled as she marched towards the surgical tray and picked up a rather large and sharp scissors. Shiro gripped Keith’s arm, but he held his ground. 

“Nice,” Keith said calmly. “So you’re going to just murder me and then pretend everything’s fine? What parts of me do you plan to use for Matt?” 

“Shut it!” Dr. Honerva hissed and lunged towards him.

In that same instance, Keith cried out for Shiro, and the monstrous man gave a thunderous roar as he bolted upright, revealing that he was no longer strapped to the surgical table. Dr. Holt gasped, his eyes glued to the scenery. Keith glared at him. 

“I’d run if I were you,” Keith said. “One Holt tragedy was bad enough!” 

Dr. Honerva screamed and thrashed under Shiro tight grip. Keith didn’t wish to witness it; for all the wrong she’s done, he wasn’t a monster. He turned away and pondered if he should shut off his phone’s camera. He had recorded everything. They had all the evidence they needed. 

He sent a quick text to Hunk, informing them that Dr. Holt had left, and he took photos of Matt’s body, sending copies to Hunk and silently hoping Hunk would have a mind not to show Pidge. 

“Keith.”

Keith turned towards Shiro. Even after poring through his files, memorizing Shiro’s stats hadn’t prepared Keith for just how gigantic Shiro was.

“Keith, you’re shaking,” Shiro said. He bent over to brush aside a stray strand of hair from the right side of Keith’s cheek, when something sharp sliced through the skin, making Keith gasp. 

Shiro immediately pulled his hand away, staring at his robotic hand with shock. “It’s sharp! I didn’t know—Keith, I’m sorry!” 

“It’s okay,” Keith laughed. “You can mark me. I’d rather carry a scar made by you.” 

“Like an overly romanticized take of the Kuchisake-onna…” Shiro chuckled. 

“Yeah,” Keith said. “You’re beautiful. Now scar me and I can be like you.” 

Shiro nodded and set his hand back and carefully lengthened the cut. They shared a smile before Shiro picked up Keith’s phone. 

“Hey—”

“Do you still have Roy’s address?” 

“Why?” 

His features darkened. “We have business north.”


	9. I'll Never Give Up On You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another content warning for those who may need the heads up for transphobia (misgendering), slurs. 
> 
> Also, because some may need the heads up on this: A certain S7-S8 character (named only in subtitles) makes an appearance here. Obviously, nothing related to S8 is in this fic. As with Ozar, I’m plopping in names for roles, and his fit with the role here.

_I’m so dead!_

Shiro sped past buildings at lightning speed, Keith hoisted over his shoulder. Keith watched as the parking lot where Keith’s new friends waited grew tinier by the moment. He hurriedly texted to Hunk, assuring them he was fine, that Shiro was fine, that he had somewhere to be with Shiro, that Shiro was taking him away—no, no, he was fine, really! He trusted Shiro!—that—oh, how much he wished to say this without panicking them!—to pass along the message to his parents that he loved them.

Because Keith was terrified. More than terrified. He trusted Shiro, yes, but he had just murdered Dr. Honerva, and Keith wasn’t sure where Dr. Holt was. The rest of the gang was left to find that out for themselves. Either the cops were going to surround the lab or they were going to chase him and Shiro down, and—

But Shiro was mighty fast, faster than the trains. Keith held tight as trees blurred past in the night, silhouetted by the great full moon beyond. The silvery rays highlighted Shiro’s handsome profile; even though he was sickly grey, Keith marveled at his beauty…and shrunk in fear, noting the fiery flare in his eyes. 

“Shiro, I know you’re angry on my behalf, but I—you don’t have to do this—just let it go—AH!”

His heart plummeted as they drew to a horrific, familiar sight. Instinct seized him and he fought against Shiro furiously, pounding against him. Shiro set him down. 

The familiar gnarled tree sneered at him several feet ahead. 

“Why did you bring me here?” Keith choked. “My-my child…I lost my child here.” 

“I’m sorry…” Shiro said in a low voice. “This was the clearest path towards his cabin. I didn’t think we’d pass…” 

Keith shook his head. He knew Shiro didn’t mean to dredge up bad memories, but—

He fell to his knees, heaving. “Sorry,” he rasped. “You must think I’m fragile.”

But Shiro just shook his head. He bent down and cupped Keith’s cheeks in his large hands. 

“Look at me, Keith. I’m never giving up on you, and I’m never going to let anything hurt you, understand? Take deep breaths—that’s right, like that. Do you trust me?” 

“Of course,” Keith said.

“Close your eyes.” 

The command came soft and gentle, and Keith couldn’t help but comply. He felt Shiro lift him again, and he wrapped his arms around his thick neck. A flurry of wind, and they were back on their track. He cracked one eye open, catching sight of the gnarled blackened tree growing smaller in his vision; he tightened his hold around Shiro’s neck.

⁂

The cabin stood alone, eerie in its familiarity. Keith tugged on Shiro as command to stop. Lights still poured from the windows.

“He might be inside,” Keith said. 

“All the more reason to pay him a visit,” Shiro grunted. 

“No!” Keith hissed and slithered out of Shiro’s hold. Crashing onto the forest floor, he picked himself onto his feet and rubbed against his chafed knees. His eyes studied the windows of the kitchen, the living room, even the bedroom, knowing well which rooms Roy utilized most. 

No shadows stirred. 

“No one’s inside,” Keith said. “Strange…he’d usually keep the lights off, unless if he had a visitor. Fuck, he better not have dragged another student! No, Miriya and Max said he was on leave! He wouldn’t have—”

“We can go in and surprise him when he returns,” Shiro said, glowering at the cabin with such loathing that if looks could kill Keith was certain the cabin would just light into flames.

“You’re really serious about this,” Keith said. 

“You allowed Dr. Honerva to die.” 

That was different. Dr. Honerva hurt and tormented Shiro, experimented on him. Shiro had every reason to do what he felt was best in self defense; Keith had no say in that. Roy was an asshole, yes; he buried Keith, was the reason why he miscarried, and as appealing as it was to just rip him apart—and certainly Keith had those fantasies before—but he refused to go down that road. And besides, Roy was just a stranger to Shiro. Keith would not let Shiro do anything horrible on his behalf. 

Keith turned back towards the cabin, frowning. He had to convince Shiro to just drop this, and that was when it hit him. 

“The videos!” he gasped. “Roy had filmed us having sex. He must have had other encounters recorded! And there’s photos he used to take of me in Rick’s uniforms. We can use that as evidence! I can send it all to the investigators working on my case, and you won’t have to hurt anyone.” 

Shiro furrowed his brow but nodded. He followed Keith as he crossed the short distance from the forest to the garage, checking to make certain Roy wasn’t inside, verifying that the car wasn’t on. He felt around the door and mat and pulled out the spare key. 

“I can just smash the door.” 

“No. If he sees that, he’ll get suspicious and won’t come inside.”

“Let me at least destroy something of his.”

“We’re not stooping to his level.”

Shiro laughed hollowly. “You forget. I share the body of a convicted serial killer.” 

Keith shuddered. “Some organs, that’s it! You’re not Kuro!” 

Shiro hung his head as they slipped inside. The place was still, no sign of anyone inside, although the scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke was strong. 

“He couldn’t have left that long ago,” Keith said under his breath. “And he must have had a guest. Shit, I hope they’re not in the bedroom…”

Shiro crossed over to the furniture, eyeing every piece with a longing to rip it apart. Keith warned him with a look before scanning the vicinity. Where would Roy be keeping the computers recording all this? 

He had been to Roy’s house a dozen times. He was always free to go anywhere: the bedroom, of course, the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom—

But not the basement. Just had the washer and dryer, Roy had said. Was always so damp and disgusting and full of centipedes. 

Throwing the door open, Keith pounded down the stairs without another word to Shiro, heart leaping to his throat. He had already wasted, what, three minutes? Five minutes? In trying to find the computer room that he hoped Roy wasn’t keeping track of the cameras in his cabin through his phone. 

“Fucking hell!” Keith halted the moment his feet landed on the final stair step. 

The entire wall was full of videos. Numerous computer screens filled one wall, each one showing a different room. What the hell was Roy so eager about filming? 

Everything was marked. It wasn’t hard to find the video of Roy and Keith’s first sexual encounter. Labeled and dated with a neat handwriting, Keith nearly vomited before he even had the chance to review the video; not that he wanted to see _that_ again. He very vividly remembered it. 

There were other names, confirming Miriya and Max’s story. Other students. He’d have to look through them later—shit, how could he take everything out of this room? 

Spotting the living room screen, Keith rewinded the recording. The image was high definition, crisp and sharp, and looking closer, Keith noticed that there was an option for sound. Roy even recorded audio. Damn him.

But this also could work in his favor. Seeing the living room devoid of himself and Shiro and then fill of Roy and another man, someone around Roy’s age, they sat on the sofa and drank, cigarettes in hand, laughing over something. Keith let the video rewind to the beginning of them walking in here. And watched. At first, nothing seemed to be of interest—he couldn’t even glean who this other man was, until—

“So you think they’ll be dropping charges?” the man said. 

“Optimistic about it, cousin,” Roy said smugly, guffawing over his beer. “The hysterical cunt has no evidence to use against me. Everyone will just assume it’s the same lunacy that makes her think she’s a man.”

Keith’s body trembled with a chill that had nothing to do with the draft in the basement. 

“Of course, I have you to thank, Curtis.” 

The man laughed darkly. “It’s no problem. I have connections. Need me to wipe out medical records? I’m your guy! Need me to release incrementing videos to ruin someone’s life? I got my ways! Need me to dig up dead bodies in Norway or Arizona? I sure love an adventure!”

Roy roared. “We sure got paid royally for _that!_ What a wonderful client! We should ask if Holt needs any more from us!” 

Curtis chuckled. “Shoulda sent me to finish off your squeeze. I’d have made sure that shovel went through her—his—its—skulls and finished it off.” 

“It’s all good. Now, just to get that other bitch to turn around or she’s got another thing coming to her.” 

“My cousin’s still pushing those divorce papers on you? _Claudia!_” 

“Yeah, yeah…been getting suspicious about me. We gotta do something about that…” 

Keith heard enough. Shaking, he stood up, his fists curled, white-knuckled, and glared through the archives of videos. His first instinct was to burn the whole place down, but a little voice told him _no_. No, this was a goldmine of evidence. Everything right from the horse’s mouth. 

When Keith returned, it was to find a Shiro aimlessly looking around, checking out the window, kicking one leg in frustration at not having anything to do. Seeing Keith, his eyes lit up but it was instantly filled with horror.

“You’re pale!” Shiro said and strode over to him. “What’s wrong, Keith?” 

“I’m sorry, Shiro,” Keith said through gritted teeth. “I guess I kept thinking of you as the monster. But you’re not the monster. All this time, it was them…”

⁂

When Roy Fokker and Curtis Grant returned to the cabin, Keith was waiting for them, sitting at the couch with a small, knowing smile. Roy gave a start but quickly recovered.

“What do you want?” he demanded. 

“You reap what you sow,” Keith said with a terrible grin and stood up. That was Shiro’s cue. 

None of their screams moved him to mercy. He left Shiro at it, turning only once to watch as blood splattered the walls that he used to admire from the man he thought he loved. Limbs and organs would soon follow, as Shiro’s laugh turned colder and darker as Kuro took over. He would love to stick around and watch the show, but there was work to be done. 

His pockets were stuffed with latex gloves from the kitchen, but he had already been reckless. His fingerprints were on everything, but the less damage now, the better. 

First, Keith destroyed the recent camera files. If evidence was destroyed against himself, erasing the fact that he was ever pregnant or had a miscarriage—well, then he could play that game too. Nothing showed what happened after Keith and Shiro had entered the cabin. The conversation was the most important thing.

Next, Keith quickly went through the archives. With Roy’s sickly neat organization, he was able to concentrate on everything that went on in his bedroom: every file of every student he had ever fucked. Some, Keith was horrified to witness, Roy even strangled right on top of the bed shortly after intercourse. 

He sped through other tapes and placed them in two piles, humming to himself to the backdrop of the screaming above. He destroyed one pile—pointless videos that the police didn’t need to waste their time picking apart. He needed them to focus on the other set. Then he collected everything and dragged them up, barely registering the sea of blood and torn body parts and organs. Shiro had deposited the remains of both men back on the couch, so Keith decided to bring over the computer from Roy’s bedroom there. 

He set it up so that the computer played one of the videos on a loop: the one with the men’s confessions, volume loud and clear. Laying the other tapes beside them, he wrote, with his non-writing hand: _Watch all of these. Help these people._ Around this display he sprinkled on other little trinkets he manages to find: plane tickets for Roy and Curtis, printed out email conversations (including a handwritten note on the username and password), Roy’s phone and the passcode to get inside, all of the photos taken of himself in Rick’s clothes for good measure, and photos of Roy’s other victims. 

May they all find justice after this. 

He glanced around himself when he was done, noting the bloodbath. 

“Feel better?” Keith asked Shiro with a little smile. Shiro smiled back sheepishly. 

Moving up to the curtains, Keith peered between the blinds. The nearest cabin, a block or so away, had been dark when they had first entered, but now light sparked throughout the house. 

Someone must have heard. In a place where the nights were still as death, the sound surely would have traveled. 

“We can’t stay here,” Keith said. “Police will be coming soon.” 

His chest constricted. He could never go back home now. And what would happen to Shiro? 

Picking up his phone, he skimmed through his contacts, debating his options. It was near midnight. They had nowhere to go. Where to hide? 

Should he talk to Hunk? Was he even still awake right now? What was happening back at Chiberia? Was Dr. Holt behind bars or did he and Pidge make amends the peaceful way? With another pang, Keith wished he and Shiro were with Pidge, Hunk, and Lance. They were so far away. 

So were his parents in Lilac Village. Would his mother and father even accept Shiro? Or would they want him to go back to being dead—

Oh, God! Death! Shiro didn’t deserve it! And after what they’ve done here, how could he convince his parents of Shiro’s innocence and reason for living? 

_No! I’m never giving up on him!_

He should just run away with Shiro, but then what of his parents? What would his parents think? How would he be able to explain everything, right now, in a text? 

“Keith?” Shiro called gently. 

Keith gripped his phone, breathing heavily, and that’s when his eyes fell on Ina’s name in his contacts.

What was her name doing here? Oh—

She took his phone, erased the video, and—

“If you need anything at all, let me know,” she had said while giving him a significant, lingering look. “I feel I cannot make it up to you enough.”

—Compared to the others, Ina was the closest to them in distance. And his only option, their only ally. 

“Shiro,” Keith said and grabbed his wrist just as the night picked up the sound of approaching sirens. “I have an idea. Come with me.”


	10. Always And Forever

Dr. Sam Holt’s eyes darted everywhere but in the direction of his own daughter, shame etched on his face. Pidge sat at the other side of the bars, frowning and several inches away from her mother. How surreal it was to that her own father, a brilliant professor and scientist, to be bound by handcuffs, in the simple drab clothes offered by the jail, reduced to being one of the inmates. Her mother didn’t even hold her. If Matt’s death had been shocking enough, this had completely paralyzed her. 

“We were so close to a marvelous discovery,” her father began. 

“Dad, I know,” Pidge said. “But what you did was still wrong. You let yourself get swept away by that other doctor, and…by grief. Please, let Matt go…”

She balled her hands into fists on each side. It wasn’t fair; she wasn’t supposed to be the one to organize funeral arrangements for one of her family. Not that she was a child either, but she expected better from both of them. 

But she knew she had to, as her father sometimes said, “step up to the plate,” and take care of matters. And she knew that, at this very moment, investigators were still going through the late Roy Fokker’s house using her father’s confession and finding even more evidence, more people Fokker and his accomplice had dug up. The videos alone were a goldmine for another investigation, another totally separate case. The two matters were entwined in a disturbing web of murder and sexual violence that Pidge could only hope Keith was finding as much relief and peace as she would hopefully find after this entire mess was over.

⁂

Allura stepped through the halls. She had been here countless times in the past weeks, as one investigation session wasn’t enough. Roy Fokker’s cabin was simply bursting with evidence.

She had to admit to some relief that they now had some semblance of evidence that Keith’s claim held merit—he was indeed pregnant at some point, and they had records of Fokker and Koh’s intimacy on numerous tapes. Romelle even found a rolled up doctor’s visit note stashed deep in one of Fokker’s desks, dirtied and bloodied, perhaps tossed in on the night of the crime and forgotten about. Bingo. It was impossible to erase every shred of evidence. The truth will eventually come out. 

She had to contact Koh about the matter, but he was not answering her calls. She’ll have to try his family soon. But in the meantime there were many other individuals she had to contact. Other people Fokker had brought into the bedroom. Other people Fokker had abused. More students from University of Rantucky and beyond. 

There was another matter, another case entirely not related to students, which Allura had not anticipated her crew getting involved in at all. Fokker and his accomplice were connected to graves having gone missing, some right from this city, and extending as far away as Norway. A one Dr. Samuel Holt had given testimony to his connections. 

The same Dr. Samuel Holt who, coincidentally, had employed Keith Koh in his and Dr. Honerva’s secret lab. Her head spun with the strange web of involvement. They managed to get a hold of Merla the old secretary for an interview. Never mind the late Dr. Honerva. An anonymous source had provided them with photos of Matthew Holt’s body with the note “in case Dr. Holt should try to cover his tracks.” 

Were it not for the Christmas carols outside she’d have completely lost track of time. 

If only she could get in contact with Koh…he worked here. She needed to interview him. Hell, was he the one to take those photos of Matthew Holt? 

_Well, I guess this explains what Koh had meant about Fokker having more activities than just the flying job_, Allura thought. And why Fokker even had a shovel in the first place. How did Koh even get a job in the lab? Oh, that’s right. Per the testimony by one Lance Álvarez, there was an ad in their university, and Lance had pressured Keith to go there because he was “totally ace at this chem thing.” 

Sighing, Allura turned to Coran and Romelle. She motioned to the pile of evidence they still had to go through. It had been a wild last couple months, and there was still so much left for them to pick apart. Coran nodded his head, fully understanding how Allura felt. 

“And so it seems Keith Koh helped us to solve two mysteries,” Coran said. “The injustice against himself, and others, and a brand new case he had no connection to.” 

“But we still can’t contact him,” Romelle mused. “And the old doctor was found dead. Holt knew Koh but doesn’t know where he went.” 

“But he is hiding something,” Allura said. “After all, who or what killed Dr. Agatha Honerva?”

⁂

Hunk and Ina bid Krolia and Heath Koh their goodbyes before leaving.

“Well!” Hunk said with a big huff. “That was more unnerving than I anticipated! Thanks for sticking by me!”

Ina shrugged. “It’s no problem. Keith needed someone to deliver a message to them. We’ll keep them updated as Keith wishes. It’s nice. Once James finds out…well, not that I care. He doesn’t bother me.” 

Making their way down to the street, they rounded a corner. Wind picked up, and they huddled into their coats. Lilac Village was cold, and the sky above hinted at another round of snowfall. 

“So…you were really serious about helping us back then, huh,” Hunk said. “I mean, about giving Keith that address and everything. Thanks for that, by the way.” He shivered, remembering the day Keith came to them for help. Ina had called them some two days after the incident. As it turned out, she had given Keith her number, but she hadn’t anticipated him calling her so soon. When Keith had shown up at her place and with Shiro…well. A group meeting had to be organized. 

“Of course,” Ina said. “No problem at all. I’m not my boyfriend. I don’t share his beliefs. It was his actions that got Keith leaving—well, not entirely his actions. We never knew how he got the video in the first place. Some bloke had been texting him and airdropped the video. That’s how James learned the trick to bypass your settings.” 

Hunk nodded. They now knew who that man was, as each of them had to be interviewed by the investigators. Two seemingly unrelated cases colliding head-on. Hunk couldn’t wait until he got back home with his family to enjoy a mug of hot cocoa. 

It was more luxury than what Keith could enjoy at the moment, a little voice in the back of his mind reminded him, filling him with guilt. But hey, at least Keith was somewhere safe with Shiro.

⁂

“Shiro?”

Shiro looked up at Keith’s face, blooming into a small smile, marred only by that scar he had given him. He scooted over so Keith could slip next to him and hand him a bag of candy. 

“_Lakkrís_,” Keith said proudly. “Licorice candy! Licorice is a staple in Iceland—they have it in all their candy, chocolates, and even ice cream! I asked and this one wasn’t made with gluten!” 

Shiro smiled and thanked Keith as he accepted his candy bag. “I’d love to give this a try, thank you.” 

It had been a couple months since they snuck into Iceland and made a sanctuary right in the farmhouse which used to belong to Ina Leifsdóttir’s grandparents, a small rectangular white-bricked abode looking out into the vast ocean. They had remained in Reykjavík for a couple nights before heading as far north as they could to the address Ina had given them. Here, they were at the very top of the globe. The population was slim, and it was miles to the nearest village. 

They shivered under multiple layers of coats and sweaters, but they were together, and safe, and no one would ever come to find them here. 

They settled on the rooftop of the old farmhouse and gazed upon the stars, enjoying the vibrant display of the Northern lights high above. Keith glanced to the side, admiring Shiro. Though still greyish and pale, his eyes shimmered with delight at every little thing he beheld, even things that Keith passed without notice, taking them for granted: the ancient stove that was now theirs, blades of dried, yellow grass, a shining star, the waves of the ocean, or even the way the grains of snow blew over ice. 

Shiro chuckled. “This is a bit salty! It’s a different flavor. I’m so glad I got to try this. Imagine if we get the chance to try every try of foods and candies and drinks around the world.” 

Keith chuckled. “The best way to live as outlaws: country hop and eat!” They weren’t that far off from Norway. They could pay Sven’s hometown a visit; after all, an unsent email was drafted after locating who they assumed were relatives of his.

Keith’s phone beeped, and he checked it, his eyes widening with delight. “Shiro…the search’s done. I think I found your parents!” 

His expression mirroring Keith’s own, Shiro lowered his candy bag and leaned closer. “You’re certain?” 

Keith nodded. “A perfect match. They’ve moved away from Kyoto, but it has to be them. Hayato Shirogane, Takara Shirogane…” He saw tears glimmer in Shiro’s beautiful dark eyes. “We can write them an email!” 

“What? Do you think—I mean…wouldn’t they be—”

Keith shrugged. “We can gauge and see what they know. You still don’t know what happened when you passed away. Adam had left you, and you were alone. Your parents were far away. They might not know, and it’s been months, years.” 

“Do you think they’ll accept me after what’s happened to me?” Shiro asked. “How long will I live this way?” 

Keith thought about it before shrugging. He still had the video of his confrontation with Drs. Holt and Honerva. He intended to one day send it for evidence, but for now, based on what Hunk had told him, the investigators were doing well without his involvement, even if they were scratching their heads over his disappearance. 

“Well…we can’t be on the run forever.” Tapping on a few items on his screen, he showed Shiro his phone. “We can start drafting an email now. We don’t have to have to send it tonight, like the others. Just think about it.” 

Shiro nodded. Smiling, he inched closer and brought his arm over and around Keith’s shoulder, engulfing him in a big, warm hug. As Keith wrote, “Dear Mr. and Mrs. Shirogane, Shiro swept down and kissed him, his lips both warm and just a little salty and bitter flavored from the licorice. 

Keith snuggled in, smiling as he composed. He had drafts saved with emails for his own parents as well. He didn’t wish to alarm them either. While it would have been better to be there and give his testimony to Inspector Allura and her crew, the evidence alone told the entire story. For now, Keith and Shiro could wait it out here, or elsewhere, as Shiro slowly relearned more of being human. 

They both may be considered broken in some ways, they were both monsters in some aspects, but they were safe now, and carefully navigating the future—and more importantly, they were together, and would be, always and forever.


End file.
